


mean girls

by kordelicious, mjfeelz



Category: Fifth Harmony (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst and Humor, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2018-10-04 13:17:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 93,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10279148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kordelicious/pseuds/kordelicious, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mjfeelz/pseuds/mjfeelz
Summary: "Lauren will finish this last year of high school drama free if it’s the last thing she does."orAU where Camila is the queen bee and she's used to the school bowing at her feet until a new girl that refuses to play by the rules comes along.





	1. the new girl

Greenwich Academy. 

Lauren stands in front of the prestigious high school, staring at the name hanging above the entrance in big, bold letters. 

Everything about the school from the large gates, to the trimmed planes and large trees screams of money and privilege. 

Lauren is used to that; she isn’t, however, used to wearing a fucking _uniform._ She looks down her frame and grimaces — pleated skirt and a fucking _tie_. 

She bites in the bitterness and reminds herself that this ridiculous uniform is a small price to pay for a fresh beginning — _God_ knows she needs it. 

And she can’t ignore that this school offers the education and opportunity she needs to get into her dream university. Besides, it’s her senior year so she just has to endure it for one year and she can continue on with her life. 

There are students milling around and Lauren has honestly never seen so many polished and preppy kids looking like they’ve got life all figured out in one place. 

She watches a pair of girls with shining platinum blonde hair squeal and embrace each other as they reunite after a long summer apart. Lauren looks away.  She isn’t familiar with being the new kid but she frankly isn’t worried about making new friends. Her plan is to get in and get out as fast as possible with top grades that’ll land her a sweet spot in her dream university. Maybe even with a sports scholarship if all goes according to plan. 

It’s with this mindset that she enters the school and she isn’t expecting much, the least being befriended by a small, overly friendly and bubbly girl right after her first class. 

She’s standing by the locker attempting to organize the heavy books she got from the school library when a sudden voice exclaims, 

“Hi!” 

Lauren startles and spins around, staring at the girl who popped out of nowhere. She’s a tiny thing, a good few inches shorter than Lauren, with long straight brown hair and a smile that seems to glow brighter than the sun. 

“Hi,” Lauren says after a pause and blinks. “You scared me.” 

The girl giggles. “I’m so sorry,” she says, “I didn’t mean to. Hi, I’m Ally.” 

Lauren smiles because she can’t deny that Ally’s smile is quite infectious, “Hi, Ally. I’m Lauren.”

“I know,” and wow, she really loves giggling, “We just had Physics together. Nice to meet you, Lauren!” 

She pulls Lauren into an unexpected hug and Lauren’s got issues with personal space and strangers, so she almost pulls away but then she realizes how freaking soft and warm Ally’s hug is — and she smells _good_. So Lauren lets herself be hugged as she pats Ally half-awkwardly on the back. 

Ally pulls away after the little-too-long hug and beams at her. Lauren smiles back and closes her locker after getting the books she needs for her next class. 

“Nice to meet you too, Ally,” she says politely before she turns on her heels and walks down the hallway. 

Ally follows her and struggles to keep up with her long strides,  “What class do you have now?” 

“Biology.” 

Ally lights up. “That’s my class too! And oh, you’re going the wrong way.” She giggles as Lauren stops. 

“I’ve got no sense of direction _whatsoever_ ,” Lauren says with a soft laugh. 

“No problem. Come, we’ll walk together.” 

By the time lunch rolls around, Lauren’s head is swimming with the amount of workload their teachers poured onto them on the _first_ fucking day. 

“Is this normal?” she asks Ally as they buy lunch from the cafeteria, and Lauren is pleasantly surprised by the food — not only is it edible and tasteful, but it doesn’t look like something that’ll send you straight to the nurse’s office with an aching tummy either. 

Ally laughs. “You haven’t seen anything yet,” she says and when she sees Lauren pale a bit, she strokes her arm—Ally loves to touch, Lauren noticed pretty early on. “You’ll get used to it once you get into the swing of things. Just make sure to write a lot of notes, it’ll save you the headache for the midterms.” 

Lauren likes Ally. She doesn’t think she’s ever met a person who’s as positive and sweet as Ally is, and she’s been incredibly helpful and welcoming, contributing to Lauren feeling like this is a good start — despite the ridiculous workload. 

After they finish buying their lunch, Lauren mindlessly steers right for the closest empty table but she doesn’t get far before Ally wraps a hand around her arm and yanks her back. 

“Where are you going?” Ally asks, wide-eyed. She looks a touch anxious which in turn makes Lauren anxious. 

“What do you mean?” she asks, genuinely confused and gesturing towards the table she’d been heading to, “I was just going to sit down over there.” 

Ally shakes her head briskly. “No, you can’t,” she says and without further explanation, she drags Lauren to the other end of the cafeteria where there’s a free table. She pushes Lauren down into a seat and takes one for herself across from Lauren. 

Lauren stares expectantly at her. 

Ally looks around conspiratorially, then leans in to whisper, “That’s the _Clique’s_ table. You can’t sit with them.” 

Lauren stares. Then blinks. Then stares some more. 

“The _what_ now?” she asks with a soft snort. “Did you just say the _Clique_ ? Are they the school mafia or what?”

Ally dramatically spills her eyes wide open. “No, they’re worse.” 

Lauren sobers up a bit, because Ally seems to be that person who has something positive to say about _anyone_ no matter how much of a scum they are, so if there are people in school that are this bad, they must be the devil. She leans into Ally, reluctantly curious and intrigued. 

Ally holds a pause for dramatic effect and Lauren nearly rolls her eyes. 

“There are three of them,” she says eventually, “And they’ve run the school for a while now. There’s Dinah Jane, Normani Kordei and of course, Camila Cabello.” 

“Okay, so what, they’re the school’s mean girls?” Lauren asks unimpressed, because she doesn’t tolerate that shit and she definitely doesn’t have time for that shit either. 

“If you cross them, they’ll end you,” Ally says darkly. Then she sees something over Lauren’s shoulder and shoots up straight in her seat, fingernails digging into Lauren’s arm. “There they are!” 

Lauren turns around and it feels like the whole damn cafeteria turns their eyes on the trio that has just arrived. It’s three girls, all of them ridiculously gorgeous in their own ways, oozing confidence and nonchalance as they strut into the cafeteria with their perfect skin and shiny hair. They’ve all somehow gotten away with customizing and accessorizing their uniforms, making them look more like something out of a fashion catalogue than the boring, dull uniforms they’re supposed to be. 

Lauren wishes it was an exaggeration but the whole cafeteria seems to stop what they’re doing to watch the girls, some even stopping mid-bite. 

“Who are they?” Lauren finds herself asking. 

“Okay, so the tall one is Dinah and she’s the captain of the girls’ soccer team,” Ally says, sounding almost giddy as she shares the information, “She’s the nicest of the trio. She’s easygoing and laid-back except when she’s on the field playing soccer — she plays like she’s fighting a _war_ . And may God save your soul if you ever imply that the girls’ soccer team is any less than the boys’ soccer team. She once knocked this guy out for calling them a joke. And if you mess with her friends, she’ll end your life like _this_ ,” Ally punctuates by snapping her fingers together. 

“The black girl is Normani Kordei. She’s the cheerleading captain. A lot of people find her intimidating but I talked to her once and she’s really sweet! She even shared her pack of gum with me and called me by name! I didn’t know she knew my name.” Ally sounds a little too excited and Lauren has to turn to face her, surprised by the almost dreamy look in her eyes. “She changes her hair all the time and she rocks every hairstyle. I personally liked the pink tips she had last year.” 

“And the last one?” Lauren asks as she looks at the smallest of the three, a petite thing, obviously Latina, with pitch black long, wavy hair and a cute little bow tie instead of a regular tie, an expensive designer bag hanging from her arm. 

“Camila Cabello,” Ally says, “She’s—” 

“The Queen Bee?” Lauren interrupts, and Ally looks at her, surprised. 

“Yeah. How’d you know?” 

Lauren rolls her eyes hard and sits straight on her chair, turning her attention back from the Clique and onto her appetizing tuna sandwich instead. 

“It’s obvious, isn’t it? Of course there’s gonna be a Queen Bee.” Lauren decides then and there that she doesn’t care for the Clique and whatever they have going on. She will finish this last year of high school drama free if it’s the last thing she does. 

“Dinah is the soccer team captain, you say?” 

Ally nods. “Yeah, why?” 

Lauren shrugs. “I played soccer at my old school. I’d like to sign up for the tryouts.”

 

* * * 

 

The soccer tryouts are held by the end of the first week and Lauren is excited — it’s only the first week and she already feels like she’s going to drown in homework and assignments, and she desperately needs a release. Running down a field with the soccer ball by the tip of her feet and the breeze in her hair has always done wonders to relax her. 

It’s the brief break before the last class of the day and she’s standing by her locker. She feels all the kids around her buzzing with energy as they whisper secretly with each other, everyone looking excited and somewhat scandalized. Lauren doesn’t know what’s going on, but she doesn’t have to wonder for long, because the next second Ally pops up next to her. 

“Did you hear?” she asks, wide-eyed. 

“Hear what?” Lauren asks, vaguely curious. 

“Camila Cabello broke up with her boyfriend, Liam Payne!” Ally whisper-hisses and Lauren turns to look at her. 

“The left winger of the boys’ soccer team?” she asks. Although it was her first week, she already knew about all the popular kids and their gossip since this school thrived on it, including Ally. 

Ally nods her head eagerly even if Lauren suspects she isn’t in on soccer lingo. “Yes, they’ve been together since sophomore year! They’ve been voted most-likely high school sweethearts to get married a dozen of times! Everyone’s shocked! No one knows what happened! But most people think that it’s Liam’s fault — I heard someone say that he cheated on her!” 

Lauren rolls her eyes. “Why does everyone care so much?”

“ _Because_ if their love didn’t last then is love even real?” Ally sighs dramatically as she leans back against the lockers. 

Lauren closes her locker and gives Ally a ‘really?’ look. 

“They didn’t seem that much in love.” She shrugs. She’d seen them a few times together, holding hands as they walked down the halls soaking in the neverending attention, admiration and jealousy of their peers. The few times they’d crossed paths, Liam had heart-eyes as he looked at Camila Cabello while said girl just seemed downright bored. 

Ally gasps, scandalized as if Lauren has insulted her mother. She shakes her head briskly. 

“You’re new. You wouldn’t know.” 

Lauren rolls her eyes again. “And I hope I never know,” she mutters under her breath. “I’m going to the soccer tryouts after school.” 

Ally nods, “Do you need me to show you the way?” 

Lauren shakes her head, “How hard can finding the soccer field be?”

Very hard apparently, when your name is Lauren Jauregui and you’re gifted with exactly zero sense of direction. By the time she makes it to the grassy field, she doesn’t even have time to admire the beauty and size of it, because she has to duck into the changing rooms where a gaggle of girls are already in the middle of noisily chatting and changing into more appropriate clothes. 

She’s met with the thick smell of girly perfume and about a dozen  curious eyes. Lauren smiles back stiffly as she shuffles to an open space. 

“I haven’t seen your face before,” a girl says as she’s bent over her duffle bag, racking through it, her thick blonde hair obscuring her face from view. 

“Yeah,” Lauren says, and pulls her shirt over her head. “I’m new.” 

The girl straightens up and flips her hair over her shoulder, looking curiously at Lauren with a pair of startling blue eyes. “Welcome to Greenwich, you got a hair tie?” 

Lauren blinks. “Yeah,” she says easily and rolls out one of her extras, watching the girl pull her hair up in a high ponytail. 

“I’m Hailey,” she says, “Junior.” 

“Lauren. Senior,” Lauren replies, discreetly eyeing the girl up. She’s got almost the same slim built everyone else in this room has. 

“You’re lucky the captain didn’t see you come in late,” Hailey snorts. “She would’ve thrown you out on your ass without a second chance.” 

Lauren raises her brow and responds dryly, “Hm, lucky me, I guess.” 

Hailey gives her a look Lauren can’t quite decipher and she opens her mouth to say something but before she can, the door springs open and a girl enters. 

The team captain — Dinah Jane.  She’s wearing the blue and white soccer kit and Lauren has to admit, it makes her look tall and commanding. She surveys the soccer hopefuls with narrowed eyes. 

“Ladies, hurry yo asses up!” She says in a volume that’s a lot higher than necessary. “You aren’t dressing up to prom! Whoever isn’t out on the field in the next two minutes is _out_!” 

With that, she leaves, slamming the door behind her and the room is consumed by an air of urgency as the girls hurry out of their uniforms. 

“I thought the tryouts started in 10 minutes,” Lauren mutters under her breath as she ties her soccer shoes. 

Hailey hears her and snorts, “Dinah Jane runs by her own clock.” 

Lauren grimaces as she follows the girls out on the soccer field. They gather in front of Dinah Jane and an older woman clad in an adidas tracksuit and wild hair that looks like she just rolled out of bed. 

“Alright, girls,” she says energetically as she claps her hands together, surveying them with eager eyes. “I’m pleased that so many of you turned out but we’re only looking for a few. I’m your Coach Kelly and this is your future captain, Dinah Jane. She will be running the tryouts.” 

Dinah steps forward with a grin, her gaze floating over the lined up girls. 

She rolls her shoulders back and says, “Listen up, girls. I know that every single one of you has heard some sexist bullshit — sorry, coach,” but the coach doesn’t look scandalized, just amused, “—about how girls aren’t as fast or strong or athletic as boys.” 

“Yeah, that is some real bullshit,” the coach interjects causing the girls to laugh and Lauren finds herself nodding, a grin on her face. 

“So today, I’m looking for girls who are ready to prove the naysayers wrong. I’m expecting a lot of you. I’m expecting perfection. I only want the best.” 

Hailey shifts nervously next to her and Lauren feels it creep up her spine. She reminds herself that she’s a superb soccer player and that she will prove that to Dinah and Coach Kelly. 

The tryouts are simple and nothing Lauren hasn’t tried more times than she can count; running drills, shootouts and ball-handling. 

Lauren is confident. That is until the tryouts begin and she realizes how competitive these girls are, and she’s forced to up her game so she isn’t left behind in the dust. 

She does excellently at first, she’s the second first at the running drills, her feet are quick and coordinated under the ball-handling going whichever way she wants it to, but then come the shootouts and she doesn’t score a single goal, causing frustration to flare up inside of her, only making it worse. 

“Hey! New girl!” 

She turns around to face Dinah, who’s approaching her. 

“My name is Lauren,” she responds, breathless from the physical exertion. 

Dinah raises a brow, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Did I ask?” 

Lauren is a bit thrown off by that and she stares at Dinah as she tries to come up with a witty response. Before she has the chance to, Dinah continues, “You played before?” 

Lauren feels a little sour at the question, surely the skills she just displayed would be enough of an answer — except the shootouts, she supposes. And no one would come to the tryouts if they hadn’t kicked a ball before. 

She nods and attempts not to look as offended as she feels. “Yeah, I have.” 

“Could’ve fooled me,” Dinah says as she writes something down on the clipboard in her hands. “You can’t even get the ball in the net.” 

Lauren swallows. “I’m having an off day.” 

Dinah smiles almost indulgently. “Is that so? How inconvenient.” 

Lauren takes a deep breath. “Look, I’m good. I’m really good. You won’t regret putting me on the team. I think you’ll regret not doing it.” 

That’s a bold statement, she knows and she can see it on Dinah’s face, in the way she tilts her head and looks at her with a raised brow. 

“You’ve got nerve,” she says, and for a moment, Lauren doesn’t know what to make of that but then Dinah laughs. “I like you, new girl. Go out there and show me what I could be missing.” 

Lauren nods and jogs back on the field. It takes a couple more tries but she finally gets a goal and it’s a fucking _good_ goal — the ball shoots through the air with a force that reverberates across the field and the poor girl standing as goalie has no chance as it whizzes past her into the net. 

Lauren jumps excitedly on her feet, spinning around, hoping that Dinah was watching and she was, smirking at her from where she’s sitting on the bench, scribbling something down on her clipboard.

Maybe her year at Greenwich will be better than she’d expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this an enemies-to-lovers/rivals au where everyone is a gossip-hungry little shit and there is always someone trying to screw someone else over.
> 
> let us know what you think!


	2. public humiliation

Camila enters the changing room like she owns the place, positioning herself in front of the mirror to arrange her hair. She stretches her brow to check her eye makeup but figures there isn’t much point in fixing anything if she’s just leaving school to go to Normani’s house.

“What?” she snaps at two of the soccer players, who’d been staring at her since she walked in. It’s been like this ever since news of her break up with Liam had started making the rounds. They are quick to turn away, going back to getting dressed.

She catches the new girl studying her reflection and surprises herself when she smiles instead of telling her off. The girl returns the smile and approaches the mirror, coming to a still at the sink next to Camila’s where she starts applying a moisturizer to her face. Camila appreciates the methodical gestures, the way her fingers move upwards across her jawline and the way they draw circles on her temples and her forehead.

It’s no secret that Camila Cabello enjoys new, pretty little things.

“Mila, I told yo sorry ass I’d be out in ten minutes,” Dinah says, emerging from the shower area wrapped in a towel, wet hair dripping on her shoulders. “Ain’t no need to be here tryin’ to rush perfection.”

The new girl chuckles next to her and Camila kind of likes the sound of that.

Well, _that’s_ a novelty.

She pushes the thought to the back of her head and watches Dinah from the mirror, “It’s been a while since I saw you naked, Dinah Jane.” She smirks, and feels oddly tickled when the new girl’s eyes widen and lock with hers in the reflection for a split moment. “You gotta deliver.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, you big perv,” Dinah says, shooing her away with exaggerated hand movements. “Just go to the parking lot, Mani’s already there.”

Camila pouts. “You’re no fun, China.”

Dinah pays her no mind, so Camila shrugs and winks at the new girl before leaving the changing room with a flip of her hair.

 

 

For all the attention they get at school as the Clique, something Camila had begun to nurture as early as freshman year, they much prefer the times when they’re together away from prying eyes. It’s not that they can’t handle attention — they _thrive_ on it — but there’s a comfort, an ease, that can’t quite be reached when their every moment is being observed.

After they’d finished homework, they’d ordered pizza and now they’re all in Normani’s room, Camila sitting on the edge of the bed and the other two girls sitting on the floor in front of the TV. Normani and Dinah are fighting over what movie to watch even though Camila doubts they can even get halfway through it without her and Dinah’s parents calling them to return home. It is a school night after all.

There’s an unexpected moment of silence and Camila lifts her head to find Normani’s eyes zeroing in on her, twinkling with a playfulness that makes Camila swallow audibly, and not just because she’s eating.

“So…”

Camila should have known that Normani would choose the moment she’s happily munching on her pineapple pizza to focus on her and start with The Questioning™.

“I heard this rumor in school that Liam cheated on you, is that true?” Normani asks, enunciating the words carefully as if she’s treading dangerous waters. Camila appreciates the concern but she feels that Dinah’s snort is more in tune with the reality of the situation.

“Mani, please,” she says, tilting her head to the side as she gestures to herself. “Who would ever dare to cheat on _this_?”

Dinah lets out a loud laugh this time and Normani pinches her leg in annoyance.

“I was worried, okay?” she harrumphs, side-eyeing Dinah. “Yesterday you just told us you’d broken up with Liam and we didn’t get to talk properly until now.”

“It’s fine, Mani-bear, thank you.” Camila smiles and slides down the bed to settle between her best friends. “I broke up with him because, well, I didn’t feel anything anymore, really. I was just so bored whenever I had to spend time with him and I kept making excuses to avoid him.” She winces, recalling how she hasn’t felt much for the boy since mid junior year at best. “That’s not how a relationship should be, right?”

“So much for Greenwich’s power couple,” Dinah jokes, resting her hand on Camila’s thigh for support.

“Yeah, I guess.” Camila shrugs. “But at some point my happiness needs to be put ahead of how good we look together in public, no?”

“Wow, is this character development I’m witnessing?” Dinah covers her mouth with both hands, feigning shock.

Camila bumps her shoulder, “God, Dinah, you’re the _worst_!”

“No, but really, Mila,” Normani interrupts, reaching for Camila’s hand and intertwining their fingers. “Are you okay?”

“Honestly?” Both her friends nod and this is as serious as she’ll manage to have them tonight. It warms her heart that they tease and gossip and even know how to be downright mean, but when it counts, they’re always there for her. “It’s a little weird to be single after so long but mostly I just feel relieved that it’s over. Also, I get to play the hurt lover at school and win me some sympathy points. Gotta work hard to stay on top.”

Camila shimmies, a shameless grin on her face, and Normani and Dinah burst out laughing.

“That’s my girl!” Dinah says, giving her a high-five.

“Enough about me though!” Camila claps and looks from Normani to Dinah with excitement. “What’s the gossip on your love lives?”

“Gurl, don’t even start with me,” Normani whines, lifting her left hand to stop them from talking over her. “I’ve been on a dry spell since June and that ain’t cool.”

“Aw Mani,” Dinah coos, blinking innocently. “I know how you feel. I haven’t had any action since last week, can you believe it?”

Camila punches her in the arm for Normani, just because she’s closer.

“You’re such a hoe, Dinah Jane.”

“Don’t be jealous, Mani, it looks bad on you.” Normani glares at her and goes back to sorting through the DVDs laid out on the floor. “Boys are boring, what do you want me to do? After a few weeks I just wanna throw them into a house on fire.”

Camila chuckles as she watches them bantering, feeling light and hopeful for the first time since senior year started.

With these girls at her side, no year could ever be bad.

 

* * *

 

Camila sighs, mouthing the words of Sylvia Plath’s _Mirror_ as Mr. Keating reads them for the third time. 

_She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands._

_I am important to her. She comes and goes._

_Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness._

_In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman_

_Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish._  

He’s trying to explain the figures of speech present in the poem and he touches on possible interpretations to the text every now and then. It’s clear he doesn’t want to give anything away though, he wants the students to reach their own conclusions. He’s making wider gestures, using the board to stress the importance of this or that detail, but he isn’t straying from the ideas he’s already shared, the same crap disguised as a new package. Camila has half a mind to announce to the class that it’s really not that hard to understand, but she is quite content to remain in the teacher’s good graces so she refrains. Maybe her classmates are just still stuck on weekend mode. 

Her eyes wander around the room, studying her classmates to check who’s dumb enough to still not get it, but eventually they settle on the new girl, seated two rows in front of her and one to her right. Lauren Jauregui. She looks as bored as Camila feels and that makes her somewhat worthy of Camila’s attention, at least for the moment. The problem is that it’s been two weeks since school has started, the only classes they share are homeroom and AP Lit, and Camila’s gaze always seems to be drawn to her. It’s… unsettling. 

Camila does _not_ stare at irrelevants from afar. 

With a huff, she focuses on the worksheet and starts doing what she assumes is going to be the homework for the next lesson. She blames her curiosity about the new girl on the fact that senior year so far has been nothing short of disappointing: she'd dropped out of a few of her extracurricular activities so she can spend way too much time worrying about essays for college applications, and her parents haven’t left Miami since school restarted, so she hasn’t been able to throw any parties. Even breaking up with Liam had been a mind-numbing experience and, five days later, she still feels no regrets and she doesn’t miss anything about him. 

Yeah, senior year is definitely in need of a makeover. 

Camila is so lost in her own thoughts she doesn’t even realize that the teacher has addressed the class, she just hears a familiar voice, the mix of husk and drawl that she’s come to associate with Lauren. 

“The second stanza reflects on the condition of being a woman,” Lauren is saying when Camila’s eyes shoot up to watch her. Lauren always speaks with her hands, and when her answers become too extensive, she runs one of her hands through her hair self-consciously. “Women are forced into roles and there’s a social obsession with beauty and youth that women should abide by in order to simply feel valid. The woman searches for herself in the mirror — or in the lake — but instead she sees the passage of time, she sees herself dehumanized by how time has drowned her youth and brought along old age.” 

Mr. Keating hums, thoughtful, “And what about the terrible fish?” 

Camila puts her hand up and Mr. Keating signals for her to proceed. 

“With that in mind, the terrible fish may be the woman’s demon. It represents her own critical gaze, viewing herself as aging and ugly.” 

“Any other interpretations?” the teacher asks. 

Camila zones out again, heart beating fast after she’d noticed Lauren looking at her as she spoke. She doesn’t allow herself to dwell on how pretty the girl is, and how undeniably _smart_.

 

 

Dinah is waiting for her outside the classroom after the bell rings and they take off to the cafeteria together. Normani is already sitting at their table with two of her cheerleaders, so the girls wave at her and go stand in the line before it gets too long. 

“’Sup, Mani?” Dinah asks after they get their food. She plops down on a chair rather ungracefully and Camila rolls her eyes. 

“Rumor has it Selena broke up with Justin,” Normani replies, almost as if she’s sharing a conspiracy theory. 

“Ohhh!” Dinah brings her fingertips together and taps, grinning. “Senior year has _not_ been nice to the school’s it couples.” 

Camila scowls and then looks around the cafeteria, only to be met with the sight of the new girl entering with Ally Hernandez hot on her tail. “Have you talked to her?” she questions, to no one in particular. In hindsight, that had been a bad idea as now there are four girls very obviously turning their heads in all directions. 

“Who?” 

Camila points, aiming for discretion. This school has eyes and ears everywhere. 

“Lauren?” Dinah asks, in her usual loud tone. Camila shakes her head. She should know better than to expect Dinah to be discreet. “She made it to the soccer team, you know this.” 

“Yes, but have you talked to her? Is she nice?” 

“She’s alright.” Dinah shrugs. “I mean, I haven’t had much time to talk to her or get to know her, but I’d say she’s the nicest of the new players so far. Hella talented with the ball too.” 

“Should we invite her to sit with us for lunch?” Camila asks, trying to sound nonchalant. 

Normani chokes on her food and Dinah drops her fork, staring wide-eyed at Camila. “Did I hear this right?” 

Camila nods and nudges Dinah under the table to see if she gets the message that their business is meant to be private. 

“You want someone else to sit with us?” Normani asks, rubbing her chest to soothe the area after her coughing fit. 

“Yes.” 

“Us?” Dinah snorts and Camila glares at her. “The Clique?” 

“…yes?” 

“A group that has been sitting together since freshman year with no one else except for the occasional boyfriend?” 

“Hey, that’s not true,” Camila argues, not having expected Dinah’s reaction to be one of shock and feeling defensive about it. “We eat with Mani’s cheerleaders all the time.” She indicates the girls sitting next to Normani to make her point. 

“Okay, I’ll give you that, Chancho,” Dinah concedes. “But we never had anyone else sitting with us because _you_ wanted them to.” 

“Whatever, Dinah.” Camila waves her hand dismissively and drags her chair back to stand up. “I’ll go get her.” 

Normani gasps and Dinah laughs and Camila clenches her jaw, suppressing the urge to kill her best friends. She scans the cafeteria to try and find Lauren and, sure enough, she spots her on a table by the corner, unwrapping a homemade sandwich with that useless Hernandez by her side. 

Camila can’t, for the life of her, understand how someone would willingly choose to hang around that girl, and she decides right then that rescuing Lauren from the displeasures of the bottom of the food chain by having her join the Clique for lunch had been an excellent idea. 

“Hi,” she greets them both as she reaches them, smiling before standing at the head of the table between Lauren and Hernandez. Lauren looks at her curiously and Camila hears Hernandez draw a sharp breath that she chooses to ignore. Just like she chooses to ignore all the gazes directed her way for the simple reason that she’s approached this particular table in the middle of lunch. “Lauren, right?” 

Lauren nods, tilting her chin to the side to lock eyes with her. Camila had never been this close to the girl and she’s a little mesmerized by how green her eyes are in the natural light bathing the cafeteria. She hadn’t expected that. 

“I was wondering if you’d like to come and sit with us?” Camila hates how unsure she sounds. It’s not at all usual for her to feel flustered when addressing someone. She clears her throat as she points to the table she’d just left, swallowing a groan as she notices all four people there are doing a lousy job at pretending they’re not following her every move. 

Lauren actually gapes at her and Camila finds it somehow endearing. Doesn’t she know she has everything it takes to be school royalty? 

“I’m sorry but I’m already sitting with Ally,” Lauren says, smiling apologetically. 

Camila lifts one eyebrow, “Excuse me?” 

“I’m sitting with Ally.” 

Camila scoffs and doesn’t bother trying to conceal her eye-roll. “Look, you’re new here, you don’t know how this school works, so I’ll be nice and explain the situation.” 

It’s funny how situations can take a wrong turn in a heartbeat, Camila thinks bitterly. 

Lauren doesn’t look apologetic anymore. In fact, now she looks exasperated by her attitude. “How kind of you,” she snarks, returning her attention to her sandwich. 

“There’s a social hierarchy here like there is everywhere else,” Camila grits out, annoyed. “Wouldn’t you rather sit with the successful students who bring a good name to this school?” 

“Wow ok, Regina George.” Lauren snickers. “I didn’t realize I’d landed in a high school movie when I first got here, my bad. But as I’ve said, I’m sitting with Ally so I’ll leave you to your _successful students_.” 

“It’s okay, you can go,” Hernandez whispers. 

Camila understands that at this point she’s coming across as rude and she should extend the invitation to Hernandez to break the tension and come out on top, but she can’t stand her joyful-singing, church-going, god-worshipping ass, and she just wants to punch her in the face every time the girl speaks. 

Lauren cuts her off before she makes any decision. 

“No, Ally,” she says, covering Hernandez’s hand with her own and giving it a light squeeze. “I’m not gonna leave you to go eat with someone I’ve never even talked to before.” She looks up at Camila and there’s fire in her eyes. “Are you done with your petty little display of power? Can we go back to eating in peace?” 

“Sure.” Camila forces a smile that’s all teeth and threats. “Enjoy your last peaceful meal.” 

“Oh, grow up.” 

Camila had never thought there was any truth to the expression, but she can feel her blood boiling inside her veins and it takes all her willpower to leave the two girls behind instead of grabbing Lauren by her hair to smash her forehead against the table. 

Everyone in the cafeteria is watching her and the whispering starts as soon as she takes the first step. Camila halts then, and makes a point of glaring at every single soul she sees whispering until they’re silent again. 

God, this fucking school and its fucking spineless kids with no personal life. 

She returns to her seat next to Normani and crosses her arms. 

“Girl, you got owned,” Dinah says, cackling. “That was incredible. Guess you’ve found your match, eh?” 

“I hate you,” Camila growls at her, making Dinah shrink in her seat. 

“Well, okay then, Mila,” Dinah mumbles, putting her hands up in defeat. “Maybe next time ask her _before_ lunch to avoid the public humiliation?” 

Camila disregards her and turns to the cheerleaders. “I want her _dead_ ,” she snarls, determination growing side by side with her white-hot rage.

“We can make that happen,” Normani sing-songs, flipping her curly hair behind her shoulder and placing her chin on her hand to wink mischievously at Camila. “Let’s set up a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and thus, the story mood is set.
> 
> feedback is always appreciated :)


	3. iii. social pariah

Rejecting Camila Cabello’s ridiculous offer at the cafeteria had been no big deal in Lauren’s mind — it wasn’t the first time she’d dealt with girls like her, girls that expected the world to bow at their feet, and it wouldn’t be the last time.

Ally and the rest of the school however, were horrified, and after Camila had left in a huff, Ally had literally begged her to go, genuinely fearing for Lauren. When Lauren had taken her hand and looked her square in the eye saying “I’d rather be with you’’, she’d gotten tears in her eyes, squeezing Lauren painfully hard.

The rest of that day, everyone looks at Lauren as if she has lost her mind and whereas Ally gets jittery with anxiety, Lauren brushes it off, ignoring the stares and whispers and pointing fingers. She assures herself — and Ally — that it’ll blow over in a couple of days when the drama-hungry students find some fresh gossip to throw themselves over.

Lauren certainly doesn’t expect what happens the following day. She feels the shift in the atmosphere the second she steps foot in the school and she looks around and everyone is staring at her, though there’s something unnervingly different in the way they look at her.

She attempts to shrug it off as she makes her way to her locker. The boy who occupies the locker next to her scurries off in a hurry when he sees her coming. Lauren frowns as she puts away the books she won’t need. According to her schedule, her Algebra class is in room B203. She hasn’t been in that room before and her human compass Ally doesn’t have class until third period (Damn, lucky her).

She closes her locker and approaches the girl closest to her. 

“Hey, excuse me, can you tell me where I can find—” She doesn’t even finish the sentence before the girl bolts. Lauren stares incredulously after her fleeing form.

“What the fuck,” she mutters under her breath. She reaches out and grabs a passing girl’s arm.

“Hey,” she says and is surprised by the almost fearful look in the girl’s wide eyes. 

“Let go!” she exclaims and struggles against Lauren’s grip, but she’s a small thing, no doubt a freshman, and Lauren easily keeps her in place.

She frowns. “Calm down. Jesus, I’m not suffering from leprosy, I just need directions for my first period class.”

To her shock, the girl bursts out into tears. “Please, don’t talk to me. I have four years left in this school. I can’t finish them alone.”

Lauren is so shocked that she releases the girl, watching her run for her life. She slowly turns and looks at the kids who are staring at her. She approaches a group of boys, but they scoff and shake their heads.

“Stay away, loser,” one of them says and they all snicker.

Lauren is at a loss. She has no idea what’s happening. All that she knows is that everyone is avoiding her like the plague. It only gets worse once she finally finds her Algebra class last second and the girl she takes a seat next to promptly rises and finds another seat far away from her.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Lauren blurts out in sheer frustration, and of course, that’s the moment Mrs. James decides to arrive. She sends Lauren a sharp, disappointed look.

“Language, Miss Jauregui.”

The class laughs and Lauren’s cheeks burn as she sinks back in her chair. She tries to concentrate on the numbers on the whiteboard but she can’t quite concentrate with the knowledge that the whole school has turned against her overnight.

Towards the last portion of the class, Mrs. James puts them in groups to solve a sheet of equations. Lauren is prepared when her group freezes her out but it still hits a nerve, because one thing is messing with her in the halls, but another is jeopardizing her academic future. So, of course, she goes off, a bunch of colorful words pouring from her mouth that has Mrs. James gaping and gasping in disapproval.

She ends up with detention.

By the time she meets Ally by her locker, she looks murderous and Ally, honest to God, makes a cross sign over her chest, staring at her wide-eyed.

“You look like you’ve been possessed by El-Diablo,” she says as she watches Lauren aggressively open her locker. Lauren slams it closed causing Ally to jump startled.

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? You tell me!” Lauren huffs as she glares at a gaggle of girls who are staring and whispering. “Can I help you with something?” she snaps and that sends them off in a hurry.

She huffs and turns back to Ally. “Everyone is avoiding me like I’m carrying a deathly disease, even in the fucking classes, and I got fucking detention for cussing them out! And no one will tell me what the fuck is going on!”

Ally looks around and seems to notice how everyone is looking at them. Her eyes goes wide as saucer plates.

“Oh God,” she whispers. 

Lauren stares at her. “Oh God, what?”

Ally grabs her by the wrist and without a word she drags her into the restrooms. Lauren watches her blankly as she checks under the stall doors, presumably to ensure their privacy. 

Then she turns to Lauren and says, accusingly, “I told you to sit with Camila!”

Lauren blinks at her. “Wait, what does that have to do with anything….” she trails off as realization drips down her spine like icy water.

“No,” she whispers, staring at Ally. “She wouldn’t!”

“Oh yes, she would!” Ally says and shakes her head briskly. “I told you, she’s the queen bee of the school and you’ve made her angry and humiliated her in front of everyone in the cafeteria. I knew she wasn’t going to let it slide. I knew she was going to put you in her little black book.”

Lauren takes a deep breath, “What the fuck is her little black book?”

“Anyone who crosses Camila Cabello ends up in her little black book, it’s like a death note, without the, like, dying. It doesn’t happen often, hasn’t happened since Chelsey Summers got put on the black book last year.”

Lauren doesn’t think that this can get any more ridiculous, honestly. Still, she takes the bait and asks, “What happened to Chelsey Summers?”

“She had to move schools,” Ally says darkly. “Everyone stopped talking to her and avoided her and she ended up with no friends at all. Because anyone who’s seen befriending the outcast becomes an outcast himself. I told you something like this could happen but you didn’t listen!”

Lauren has to take several deep breaths to calm down. She turns and faces the mirrors, grabbing the edge of the sink, and tries to keep down the urge to storm down the school and find Camila Cabello to punch her in the face. She can’t believe that Camila would do something like this just because Lauren turned down her stupid invitation to eat lunch with her. This is a fucking parody of every high school movie ever made.

Fucking ridiculous.

“Ally,” she says after several moments, “you don’t have to talk to me. I don’t want you to go through what I just did. Don’t worry. I’d understand.”

“Are you kidding me?” Ally exclaims and comes up to the sink, rooting through her bag until she finds her lightly tinted lipbalm. “You stood by me in the cafeteria and I’m going to stand by you now.”

Lauren looks at her and smiles. “Thank you.”

“That said, I’m terrible at fighting. In fact, I can’t fight.” Ally looks a bit pale and Lauren reaches out and squeezes her arm.

“Don’t worry. It won’t come to that. I’m gonna fix things.”

Ally looks at her nervously. “What are you going to do?”

Lauren looks at her reflection in the mirror. “I’m going to have a word or two with Miss Queen Bitch.”

 

Lauren finds Camila Cabello standing by her locker accompanied by Dinah Jane and Normani Kordei, laughing prettily and throwing her hair over her shoulder. As she stands there, looking better than anyone else in her uniform, the hem of her skirt cut daringly high, she is beautiful. Lauren can admit that, and from the classes she shares with her, she knows she’s smart too — what a shame that she’s such a bitch.

Lauren cuts right into their conversation, loudly announcing, “Hey. I need to talk to you.”

They stop abruptly and turn to stare at her as if she’s a peasant daring to speak to royalty. They exchange a look between each other and then glance back at her, Normani looking amused and Dinah looking delighted for some reason. Camila arches a perfectly shaped brow at her before scoffing and turning away.

“Is she talking to me?” she asks her friends, causing them both to laugh.

Normani flips her hair over her shoulder and eyes Lauren. “I don’t know, is she talking to you?”

“You need something, new girl?” Dinah asks with a smirk, and Lauren’s fingers curl into tight balls. She thought she’d gained Dinah’s respect by proving herself on the soccer field.

She doesn’t have neither the time nor the patience and she can feel everyone watching them. She makes a quick decision and grabs Camila’s wrist, dragging her into the nearest empty classroom, pushing the door closed behind them.

Camila snatches her wrist out of Lauren’s grip and takes several steps back, eyeing her suspiciously. “First of all, don’t touch me. Second of all, don’t drag me into an empty classroom without my permission, Jauregui.”

Lauren glares at her, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Camila brushes her hair back from her shoulder, tilts her head, places a hand over her jutting hip and gives Lauren the most condescending look she’s ever received.

“Here I thought you were smart enough to figure that one out by yourself,” she says with a scoff. “But then again, you were dumb enough to turn down a golden opportunity.”

“Really?” Lauren exclaims, and throws her hand out to the sides as she says, “Is that really what this is all about? I reject you and suddenly you turn the whole fucking school against me? Damn, your ego must be made of glass.”

Camila’s eyes flash dangerously.

“We’re done here,” she says and struts towards the door.

“No, no, no,” Lauren says as she moves quickly, placing herself between the exit and Camila. “You’re not going anywhere until you stop this madness.”

Camila stops up in front of Lauren and stares at her flabbergasted. Then she looks pissed.

“Get out of the way, Jauregui,” she says, voice low. “Now.”

Lauren doesn’t move an inch and easily matches Camila’s withering glare with one of her own.

“No,” she says steadily and enjoys the split-second in which Camila Cabello looks lost for words or action; obviously, she isn’t used to anyone opposing her. That spoiled princess.

Lauren is surprised when Camila gets in her personal space, so close that Lauren can make out every detail of her face that looks like it had been airbrushed to perfection. 

“You’re playing with fire,” Camila tells her, the threat dripping from her words.

“Then it’s good thing that I love playing with fire,” Lauren counters easily, refusing to be intimidated.

Camila looks taken aback for a moment, the heated glare slipping as she blinks and takes a step back without realizing she’s doing so.

She composes herself quickly, however. “How long do you think you can keep me here?” she asks mockingly. “We have class in,” she pauses to check the little watch on her slender wrist, “less than three minutes.”

Lauren knows she’s right, but she isn’t backing down yet. “I don’t think you’re seeing what an embarrassing cliché and stereotype you’re being, Cabello. I mean, do you really want to be that one mean girl that peaks in high school?”

Camila crosses her arms over her chest and scowls at her, “Oh, trust me, you haven’t seen mean yet. Don’t think you’re going to get away with this pathetic little stunt.”

Lauren realizes that there’s no reasoning with Camila. She realizes that she has no choice but to fight fire with fire. She pushes away from the classroom door, invading Camila’s personal space.

“Fine,” she sneers. “You want your own high school movie?” Camila tilts her chin up, meeting Lauren’s gaze squarely. “Then I’ll give it to you.”

Lauren doesn’t give Camila the chance to recover from that. She spins around and throws the door open, barely blinking when Dinah and Normani nearly fall through it. They regain their balance somewhat gracefully but fail miserably at pretending they weren’t eavesdropping.

Lauren walks past them down the hall. She stops upon a brightly colored poster that catches her attention. It’s a poster for the student body’s presidential campaign and it’s Camila’s. Of course.

As she stares at it, an idea hits her. She looks up and sees the Clique staring at her. She makes eye-contact with Camila and gives her a cunning smile, drinking in the confusion in Camila’s eyes before she turns on her heels and walks away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now that lauren is fighting back shit's gonna get real !
> 
> Until next sunday xx


	4. an actual presidential race for once

Camila is _never_ late. You can’t get far in life without planning ahead and therefore she always makes a point of arriving at least five minutes early to wherever she needs to be. It’s not her fault that Sofi had decided to throw a temper tantrum this morning and, by the time Camila had managed to calm her down, they only had ten minutes to get to school. She always needs to drop Sofi off first, which is why she’s now running through the hallways, trying to make it to AP Government on time.

She somehow manages to walk inside the classroom as the second bell is ringing, so there are no consequences for her tardiness and she just gives the teacher a quick apology before taking her seat on the row by the window.  Pulling out her notebook and her pencil case, she places her phone between her legs to let the girls know she’s alive and is surprised to see she has more texts than she’d expected. Both Normani and Dinah have blown up her Whatsapp notifications. 

 **China Jane [8:16]** _are u here yet??_

 **Mani [8:21]** _Where are you?_

 **Mani [8:22]** _Did something happen?_

 **China Jane [8:24]** _ok bish we headin inside c u after 1st period_

 **Mani [8:25]** _Is everything okay? You should be at school by now_

 **China Jane [8:26]** _where tf r u walz_

 **China Jane [8:26]** _GURL U NEVER GONNA BELIEVE THIS SHIT_

 **China Jane [8:27]** _YOU GOTTA SEE THIS_

 **China Jane [8:28]** _get yo ass to the lockers rn!!!!!_

 **Mani [8:29]** _Shit. Did you see it?_

 **China Jane [8:29]** _DA FUQ U AT_

Camila stares at the screen in disbelief. Of course the girls couldn’t have been kind enough to drop a photo or a snap of whatever they wanted her to see and now she’ll have to wait until class is over to catch up on the latest gossip.

With an annoyed sigh, she grabs a pen and starts copying the notes on the board.

 

 

Camila doesn’t notice anything out of the ordinary as she leaves AP Government, sending a quick message to the Clique’s group chat so they’ll meet at her locker. She’s vaguely aware that there are people watching her and pointing and muttering under their breaths, but there are always people doing that and she’s learned not to care about it.

After all, it’s much better to be the one people talk about than to have nothing better to do but talk about someone else.

She saunters up to her locker and opens it to pull out her Psychology textbook. A folded paper falls to her feet and she lowers down to pick it up, keeping it between her index and middle finger as she finishes what she has to do. It isn’t the first time, nor will it be the last, that someone leaves random messages through the slit of her locker. She shuts the door and leans against the wall of lockers, hoping the girls won’t take too long.

Camila isn’t quite prepared for what she sees as she unfolds the paper and her chin drops before she can regain control of her muscles and facial expressions. What she has in her hands is a very poor excuse for a student president campaign poster, limited to a printed out color photograph on A4 photocopy paper with a slogan underneath in what looks like a bland Arial font. She would be appalled at the unprofessionalism of it all if it weren’t for the shocking content.

It’s a photograph of Lauren fucking Jauregui. And sure, the photograph is flattering, but Camila couldn’t care less if Lauren had plastered her face all over school or decided to hand out nudes at the cafeteria. No, what _really_ gets to her is the slogan:

_No cliques: for a fair high school experience_

Camila sees red in that moment. She’s gritting her teeth so hard, middle-school Camila would be worried those two years wearing braces had been for naught.

She knew Lauren would come for her, but there is a difference between coming for her and attacking her friends. This is personal.

“There you are!”

She snaps her eyes up to face Dinah walking towards her with Normani in tow.

“I see the hottest news has found its way to you,” Normani says, wincing. She places a hand on Camila’s shoulder and softly allows it to travel down to her wrist. Camila feels some of the tension inside her fade at the gesture and tries to give Normani a smile. She fails.

“That _bitch_ ,” she breathes out instead. “I’ll fucking kill her.”

“I’m kind of impressed, actually,” Dinah says, prying Camila’s fingers open to grab the poster and check it out. “Girl legit pulled this outta her ass from one day to the other.”

Camila glares at her, not wanting to hear anything even remotely positive about Lauren. “Did you even read the stupid slogan, Dinah? This is not just about me, she’s coming after _us_!”

“Yeah?” Dinah shrugs. “I’m 100% Team Mila but I can’t say it isn’t exciting to have someone challenging us.”

Normani snickers at that and Camila struggles with her instinct to stomp her foot like a spoiled toddler.

“You have to admit this school isn’t exactly home of the brave material,” Normani prods, hand moving to entwine their fingers. “I don’t think this is a big deal, it’ll be just like in freshman year when Richard Baker tried to run against you for class president. It was more of a formality to pretend there was some sort of race going on when, lol no.”

Camila squeezes Normani’s hand, grateful for her words and for how her presence helps relax her.

“I’m still going to kill her,” Camila announces after a long moment of silence, lips quirking up in a dangerous smirk.

“I can’t wait for that.” Dinah grins triumphantly, putting her hand up for Camila to high-five.

“And I’ll be right there to step over the bitch’s dead body.” Normani’s eyes are glinting, bright with mischief.

On second thought, Camila says to herself, this could turn out to be a lot of fun.

 

 

Camila spends most of her Psychology class obsessing over the poster. She can feel the weight of it inside her blazer’s pocket, even though it’s just a piece of paper folded in four.

This is an affront she can’t let slide, and while she wants to confront Lauren about the whole thing, she doesn’t want to come across as angry and hysterical. Lauren doesn’t deserve the satisfaction of feeling like she has affected her in any way.

She tears out a page of her notebook and starts listing possible scenarios so she can both calm herself down and come up with a viable action plan. She scribbles several brilliant lines of monologue and memorizes them right away, feeling quite pleased with herself. She doesn’t know how Lauren will react but she trusts her quick wit to present her with some decent retorts. As long as she keeps her cool, everything should be okay. The idea is to make Lauren lose _her_ cool.

Now she only needs to think of the perfect setting to enact her little speech. A confrontation in the hallways is out of question because she doesn’t need any more attention placed on the two of them together. There’s already plenty of that to go around. Checking her schedule, she realizes she has AP Lit next and smirks.

That’s something she can work with.

 

 

Camila enters room A012 three minutes before the bell rings and is satisfied to see Lauren is already there. Unfortunately, so is her table partner, which forces Camila into a less smooth approach.

Standing next to him, she offers a saccharine smile. “Scram.”

The boy looks up at her, eyes open wide, and hurries away, finding another seat. It’s a good thing Mr. Keating doesn’t care about fixed placements — never a time when that hadn’t been convenient.

Camila beams at Lauren and sits next to her without asking for permission, ignoring the incredulous stare Lauren is throwing her way. She removes the poster from her pocket and unfolds it, placing it on the middle of the table. “It has come to my attention that _this_ is a thing that is happening.”

Lauren just raises one eyebrow, not bothering to reply.

“I’m actually glad you’ve decided to run against me” Camila continues, counting a victory point when confusion flashes across Lauren’s features. “It does get a bit tiresome to have the world bow at your feet without question.”

“Oh please,” Lauren huffs, with an eye-roll.

“But, Jauregui, if you’re going to run against me, at least give me the pleasure of a challenge?” Camila tilts her head to the side, smiling lazily and enjoying the turmoil behind Lauren’s eyes. “Here.” She points at the poster, her finger falling between the photograph and the slogan. She thinks it’s very kind of her. She could’ve easily just tapped one of Lauren’s eyes with her fingernail, which is closer to what she would like to do to the girl. “Photocopy paper, seriously? How cheap.”

“I would like to see you bringing a campaign to life overnight, Cabello,” Lauren counters, swatting Camila’s hand away from the poster. “In the last twenty-four hours, I’ve signed up for student body president, studied the students’ council regulations and policies of the past three years, wrote down a draft of the plan for my presidency _and_ created a campaign from scratch. All by myself.”

“Photocopy paper makes the photographs look pixelated and scrunched up, so unpleasant,” Camila carries on, disregarding her in spite of the somewhat impressive list of achievements. “And Arial for the slogan’s font? What is this? The first group project for middle school?”

Lauren is seething at this point and Camila’s chest swells with pride. She’s doing this. She’s the one aggravating Lauren and she’s loving the hell out of it. “I’ll give you kudos for the slogan though. That was… brave. It will get you attention, for sure, which will last you for today and maybe until the end of the week. But it isn’t memorable.

“I mean, if you’re this bad at posters alone, how do you expect to hold up against me when it’s time to present your campaign video in homeroom? Or for the debate before the election?”

Mr. Keating arrives in that moment and Lauren fixes her with a glare that would probably be considered intimidating if Camila were someone else. “Are you done with the lecture? Can you go now?”

“No,” Camila answers, surprising them both. “You smell nice. I think I’ll stay here for today.” She grins, delighted by Lauren’s startled expression and her obvious loss for words as she shifts her attention back to the lesson.

Camila didn’t think it would be possible, but if she enjoyed messing with Lauren’s head over her subpar poster, she’s now overcome with glee, arguing against every single interpretation Lauren has for the poems they’re studying today.

Mr. Keating notices it but doesn’t stop them. The man has strange ways and he seems to value intelligent discussion over appeasing the belligerent tension in the room. Camila appreciates it.

She’s on a winning streak anyway.

 

 

When Camila finally makes it home that evening, after spending two hours in the library finishing her History essay, she falls face first on her bed with a groan. Her phone beeps from somewhere in her bag and she shoves her hand inside to try and find it without having to change position. She succeeds after a very frustrating minute and looks at the screen to see Normani had texted her.

 **Mani [6:33pm]** _I have a feeling this presidential race is gonna be more interesting than we thought_

Camila blinks and then frowns, unsure of what Normani is trying to convey.

 **Mila [6:34pm]** _what do you mean?_

Normani sends her a link to a tweet and Camila opens it, a feeling of dread coursing through her veins.

 

Her first reaction is relief because she was expecting much worse, but then she clicks on the twitter account, realizes it’s been created earlier that day, sees a tweet with a picture of her campaign poster side by side with Lauren’s and a few other incendiary tweets, and she lets out an undignified wailing sound.

Great. This is just what she needed in her life.

 

* * *

 

Camila doesn’t think too much about Lauren for the next two days. Or rather, she doesn’t allow herself to, forcing her mind to drift somewhere else as soon as the obnoxious girl pops up in her thoughts. She smiles inwardly when she notices that most posters have been replaced with classier versions of the original, taking her suggestions into account. The slogan is still the same but Camila doesn’t believe that will stick for long.

For all her effort to remain collected about the events of the past week, Camila’s also aware that, for the first time in her high school experience, a person that she’d condemned to ostracism had bounced back from it like it had been nothing.

Social media had played a big part in that, what with the stupid @sipthegreentea twitter that keeps people obsessing over the campaign and that rat Zayn Malik interviewing Lauren for the school blog. She thought no one followed that thing, but apparently a six-minute video of Lauren being charming and eloquent, and making sense in a few of her points, had been enough to gather it some attention. Lauren Jauregui had gone from persona non grata, from _the_ absolute bottom of the social hierarchy to somewhere… slightly above that.

Camila would be lying if she said that didn’t unnerve her a little bit.

In all fairness, most of the school is still avoiding Lauren like she has the plague and she knows some of the popular kids have fun throwing insults at her every now and then — which, _kind of_ makes her uncomfortable but she has done nothing to prevent. However, Lauren’s become a champion of sorts for the underdogs and the wallflowers, the kids too weak to make a name for themselves, and so she isn’t alone by any means, as had been Camila’s original intention. And if Lauren isn’t alone, if she’s defied the school’s natural order and survived, Lauren is dangerous.

That’s why Camila is keeping track of what’s going on with Lauren by ensuring some underdogs remain loyal to her. She may be willing to act as if Lauren is beneath her and nothing she does phases her, because that both irritates Lauren and allows her to be perceived as the still reigning president, influential and untouchable. But smart people keep their friends close, and their enemies closer. Being two steps ahead is not enough of a waypoint as far as Camila is concerned.

And thus, she weaves a web of nerds and drama kids and almost pretty girls, people she’s always been nice to and who’ve always liked her. One should never underestimate people’s willingness to betray their own in exchange for the approval of the powerful majority.

It’s Friday and Camila’s lost in thought in one of the bathrooms of the second floor when she’s approached by a girl with long, copper-colored hair.

“C-Camila?” she stutters.

Camila fights the urge to roll her eyes because in these times of political need, she can’t afford to act however she wants. “Hi,” she says, turning to give her attention to the girl with a smile on her face. Camila knows she’s the current sophomore class president until election day but can’t remember her name even though she should. This girl is one of those who would sell her soul for popularity. “Can I help you, hum — what’s your name again?”

“Katie,” the girl replies, not at all offended that Camila didn’t know that. She checks the stalls before she speaks again. “I thought you should know that Lauren is planning a campaign event.”

“Oh, is she?”

“Yeah. I don’t know when it will happen but there’s been talk of getting a catering service so they can give away cupcakes while handing out flyers and buttons.”

Camila narrows her eyes, studying the girl. “Catering service?”

“Some kid’s mom owns a bakery and he said he could get a few batches of cupcakes for free. To help with the campaign, I mean.” Katie keeps shifting on her feet, nervous energy coming off of her in waves.

“What kid?”

“Jacob Sartorius.”

“Jacob Sartorius?” Camila shakes her head. “Who even is _that_?”

“He’s a freshman,” Katie says, shrugging. “Skinny, wears those thick-framed type of glasses, hair makes up half of his height?”

Camila snickers. “Do you know this boy?”

“Yeah, like, we say hi in the halls and stuff?”

“Good.” Camila places both her hands on the girl’s shoulders and stares deep into her eyes. “Tell him to meet me behind the gym at 4:30.”

Katie nods, and Camila finds it a mix of cute and sickening that she looks like she’s been given a life-changing mission.

“Will do, Camila!” she says, bobbing her head up and down until Camila releases her shoulders and signals for her to leave with a thanks. “Bye!”

 

 

“You’re late,” Camila drawls when she spots a lanky boy with his hair two inches up in the air walking towards her. She repositions herself so only her shoulder is leaning against the wall as she faces this Jacob creature.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, blushing. “I thought this was a prank.”

Camila smirks. “I can see why you would think that but no, this isn’t a prank.”

“Am I in trouble?”

“Not if you help me.”

“I don’t see how I can help you, I’m sorry.” To his credit, Jacob looks genuinely rueful. The poor thing has no idea what he’s doing, talking to Camila Cabello in secret.

“I hear your mom owns a bakery, is that true?”

“Yes.” He moves closer and stands next to her, hands behind his back as he also leans against the wall. “You need a catering service too?”

“Too?”

“Well yeah, Lauren Jauregui—“ Camila cringes as Jacob mispronounces the surname but he doesn’t notice, “—is doing some campaign event next week and she asked if I could get her some free cupcakes so I figured you were after the same thing?”

“If I ever need cupcakes from your bakery, I’ll make sure to pay your mom for her excellent service,” Camila informs him, smiling sweetly. “In fact, do you have a card or is there a website I can visit?”

“Place is called _Baked Bites_ ,” Jacob says, returning her smile. “You can look it up on Facebook or Instagram.”

“I will,” she assures him. She’ll order a box of goods to take home to her family, at least, and make sure that reaches Jacob’s ears. Favors are paid with other favors. “Now there is something I would like you to do for me, if you’re up for that?”

“Sure. What do you need?”

“Those free cupcakes that Jauregui is getting for her campaign…” She pauses on purpose, gauging his reaction. “What would have to happen for them to be… _less_ than perfect cupcakes?”

“What are you getting at?” He squints his eyes, suspicious. “This is my mom’s business we’re talking about. I don’t want to cause her trouble.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t, don’t worry!” Camila cuts, eyes wide with innocence. “Ally Hernandez loves baking, I’m sure she’ll do her own batch for the event. We’ll blame it on her.”

Jacob laughs at that, his hair shaking with his movements. “Alright. I guess I could be persuaded then. What’s in it for me?”

Camila’s lips curl up smugly. “Name your price, Jacob. I’ll make it happen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slytherin!camila: _rise_


	5. the cupcake debacle

What you need to know about Lauren Jauregui is that she’s a fighter and she never does half-measures, she always goes all the way. In the past, it’s proven to be both a blessing and a curse, because sometimes, she doesn’t know when to quit.

One thing she knows for sure is that Camila Cabello has to be flinged off of her little throne, if it’s the last thing Lauren does.

And she admits it. She admits that Camila’s reaction to seeing Lauren’s posters plastered everywhere announcing that she’s running against her, isn’t the reaction Lauren had expected. If anything, she’d hoped it’d piss her off, she’d hoped that she’d come running towards her frothing at the mouth, she’d damn well looked _forward_ to it.

But no, she’d been robbed of that pleasure and, and after the disaster that had been AP Lit’s class, Camila is sitting at her table with her friends, looking like she has no worries in the world.

“Are you trying to stare a hole through her?” Ally asks, and Lauren snaps her gaze towards her friend.

“I’m not staring,” she mutters and takes a bite of her chicken sandwich.

“Yes, you are and everyone’s gonna notice too,” Ally points out.

Lauren glances around and, true enough, there are a lot of eyes on her. It doesn’t bother her anymore; it’s amazing what you can get used to. And today, the whole school has been positively buzzing with this new ‘scandal’, people whispering and gossiping up a storm, people watching Lauren and Camila closely, hoping for some kind of fight.

“I’m surprised she didn’t stab you in the throat.” Ally is just as surprised by Camila’s reaction; she’s apparently known to be hot-tempered if anyone dares to oppose her.

Lauren grimaces. “It’s because she doesn’t think I’m a threat.”

Ally shrugs as she meticulously picks apart her sandwich, removing the lettuce and the tomatoes. “Well,” she says carefully, “you kind of aren’t.” She lifts a hand in defense when Lauren gives her a betrayed stare. “What? Come on, Lauren, she’s the _queen bee_ and you’re the _new girl_. I’m the only one who doesn’t run the opposite way when I see you!”

Lauren’s nose flares. “I can’t be the _only_ one who wants things to change around here.”

“You aren’t,” Ally confirms. “Obviously not. Everyone _but_ the popular kids wants things to change, but no one will do or say anything in fear that they’ll get ostracized like us.”

Lauren was aware that posters weren’t enough to fire people up. No, she had to campaign and pull in those who felt unfairly treated by this rigid hierarchy. She takes a look around at the cafeteria, taking in the faces of those deemed ‘unpopular’; the kids that were locked down by society’s standards of what it means to be ‘pretty’ and ‘well-dressed’ and ‘super wealthy’. Kids that felt isolated and alone. Kids that felt like they didn’t have a voice.

Lauren will be their voice. She just has to prove to them that she has what it takes.

The opportunity to do just that lands in her lap towards the end of the day. She’s standing by her locker, switching books, when,

“Lauren Jauregui,” a smooth voice says.

There is a boy standing before Lauren, his uniform so wrinkled it looks like it has been fished out of the bottom of a duffel bag, but somehow, he rocks it. A closer look behind the big thick-framed, black hipster glasses he’s wearing and Lauren is surprised by how handsome he is.

“Can I help you?” she asks as she eyes him suspiciously. He looks like he could be one of the popular kids and she’s had a few unpleasant encounters with them already.

“Zayn Malik.” Zayn offers her his hand and Lauren stares at it for half a beat, stunned that there exist people their age that do that outside of formal settings.

He smiles when she takes his hand and okay, he is ridiculously attractive. “Nice to meet the new girl that has shot Greenwich out of its natural order.”

Lauren lets her hand fall to her side and smiles faintly at him, still unsure what this is all about and also surprised that Zayn doesn’t share the collective fear that he’ll get contaminated by her extreme unpopularity.

“I run the school paper,” Zayn finally says after a moment of awkward silence.

Lauren raises a brow. “We have a school paper?”

“Of course we have a school paper,” he says almost defensively, as if it isn’t the first time he’s heard the question and he’s tired of it. He takes a deep breath. “Right… you’re new. It’s more of a blog than a physical paper. You can find the link on the school’s website.”

Lauren nods slowly.  “Ok… thanks, I guess?”

“I want to interview you,” Zayn says.

Lauren blinks. “What? Me?”

Zayn smirks. “Don’t look so surprised,” he says with a soft laugh, adjusting his glasses. “The school has done nothing but talk about you this week. You’re running against Camila Cabello for president of the student council, which _many_ would describe as a suicide mission. Everyone wants to know what you’re thinking and it’s my job to be the first to get the inside scoop.”

Lauren stares at him for a moment as she lets his words sink in, and a smile spreads across her lips. This is excellent, it’s the exact opportunity she’d been looking for, a way to present herself to the student body, give them the chance to get to know the real her, not whatever bullshit manufactured by rumors and gossip.

“I’m in.”

Zayn’s lips quirk up. “Good. Let’s meet after school. At the computer room.” He turns around and coolly saunters away.

Lauren watches him, then it hits her, “Where’s the computer room?” she calls after him.

He looks over his shoulder. “I’ll find you, rebel girl!”

Lauren snorts, amused. Rebel girl? As if she’s standing up to a brutal, oppressive dictatorship, but then again, she supposes she is, in a sense. Yeah, rebel girl has a nice ring to it.

 

 

The interview goes better than expected. Lauren gets a chance to speak out about the inequality of the rigid high school social system and the unfairness of exclusion and bullying, and she makes a point of reaching out to those less privileged high school kids; the ones that are here on a scholarship, who haven’t grown up with a silver spoon up their asses.

And Lauren _likes_ Zayn Malik, and not just because he called her intelligent and eloquent. He’s quirky and hipster-ish and has a passion for writing and best of all, he doesn’t give a flying fuck that he’ll get heat because he’s associating himself with Lauren.

When she gets home, she’s quite satisfied with herself and ready to go forward with her campaigning. She’s sitting by her laptop, brainstorming ideas, when her phone beeps with a new message from Ally. The message alerts her about a new gossip twitter that has popped up, dedicated to covering the drama of the presidential campaign. And of course it has already amassed an impressive number of followers.

Lauren is barely surprised; if anything, it inspires her. She’s never been into social media and the little she had, she shut down before she started at Greenwich, but now, she’s aware that it’ll strengthen her campaign. It is the perfect way to reach out to her peers. After all, they do live and breathe social media.

So, of course, she creates a twitter.

She texts both Ally and Zayn to retweet her tweet for more visibility, and it doesn’t take long before it’s picked up by a few other students. However, it only starts blowing up when @sipthegreentea retweets, and Lauren is not prepared for the flood of hate from students that feel emboldened by being behind a screen, calling her ‘embarrassing’ and to just ‘give up’. Lauren is _this close_ to going on a twitter rant, but a text from Zayn tells her to not give into what they want. So she puts her phone down and picks up her book, aggressively focusing on that instead.

She only checks her twitter the next morning and is pleasantly surprised to discover that she’s gained a lot of followers overnight. She follows them back and sends out a quick tweet thanking people for the support.

And the surprises just keep coming throughout that day.

It starts with a few supporting messages popping into her twitter inbox, thanking her for running against Camila, admiring her for her bravery, and one even promises to vote for her. They’re nothing against the amount of mockery sitting in her mentions, but Lauren is positive.

(Clearly Ally is rubbing off on her.)

Then Lauren slowly but surely starts receiving quick smiles and acknowledging nods from a few students, but none of them are willing to take the risk of approaching her yet. That is, until lunch rolls around.

Lauren and Ally are gushing about the budding support when a group of students comes to them.

“Hi,” the boy in the front says. Lauren has seen him before but never this close. He’s a black albino, his colors bleached by his skin condition, and Lauren finds him beautiful in his own way.

“Hi!” Ally responds enthusiastically and Lauren smiles at him, “Hey.”

The boy smiles and glances at the two friends with him. “I hope we aren’t interrupting?”

He sounds nervous and unsure.

“Oh, not at all!” Ally assures.

The boy nods and looks at Lauren. “We just came to tell you that we think you’re doing something really amazing. Like what you did… standing up against the whole school and refusing to give up? That takes some balls of steel.”

Lauren laughs, chest buzzing with warmth. “Thank you. I appreciate the support. What are you guys’ names?”

The boy almost seems surprised but there’s a happy glint in his eyes as he introduces himself. “My name is Shaun,” he says. “This is Christie.” He points his thumb at the girl standing behind him, a tiny thing with hair bigger than her body, untameable and that seems to be spun from fire.

She blushes furiously as Lauren’s gaze rests on her and stutters out a high-pitched, “Hi!”

Lauren grins, “Hi Christie,” amused when the color in her cheeks deepens to match her red mane.

“And this is Ian,” Shaun finishes and nods towards the boy standing on his other side. An Asian boy with completely stoic features who gives Lauren a polite nod and a flat ‘yo’.

“Nice to meet you,” Lauren says sincerely.

“We want to offer our help,” Shaun says, rubbing a hand over his white-blond hair, “Like… whatever you need, just say the word. We want to help.”

Lauren looks at Ally, who’s grinning back at her from ear to ear.

“Would you guys like to sit down?” Lauren asks as she looks back at them and gestures at the empty seats.

“Yes!” Christie exclaims loudly, then blushes furiously.

“Calm down,” Ian mutters, without noticing Christie’s scowl.

“I’m really happy you’re offering help,” Lauren says once they’re all seated. “I could really use it.”

They all seem to brighten up, except Ian who looks as emotionless as a brick.

“I saw your posters,” Shaun says. “I know you did them overnight, but I can help you improve them. I’m really creative and Ian is like a computer geek, so he can help us with anything technology related.”

Lauren sits back and looks at them, a big smile brightening her face.

“Welcome to the team, guys.”

 

 

Lauren decides to spend the next few days preparing her first campaign event, a thing that wouldn’t be possible without the massive amount of support from her new team that has dubbed themselves _#teamrebel_ — Lauren _loves_ it. It’s nothing big, just a few tables pushed together to form a long one, planted just outside of the school entrance. They’ll stand there with refreshments, giving out flyers summing up Lauren’s goal for the school, and Shaun had even ordered in a whole box of custom made buttons with Lauren’s slogan: ‘ _no more cliques! Lauren for President’_.  

Over those few days, the support grows steadily, less and less people running away when Lauren tries to speak to them.

Team Rebel are in high spirits on the day of the campaign event, despite the mockery from the majority of the students. There aren’t as many that approach their table as Lauren had hoped, but there are more than she expected. At some point, a group of junior boys spills over a can of juice when nobody's looking, but of course they expose themselves with their stupid, boyish snorting.

“Hey! What are you doing!?” Shaun exclaims when he sees the orange liquid overflowing the tables and Christie is quick to swipe the cupcakes away from the impending flood.

“We did nothing,” One of the juniors says, not even bothering to sound convincing as the other boys snicker.

“It was you, stop lying,” Shaun shouts, aggravated, gaining Lauren’s attention from where she’s speaking to a girl at the other end of the cafeteria. “Clean it up!”

“What are you gonna do, _make me_?” the boy says provocatively. “Just because you look like a ghost, don’t mean I’m gonna be scared of you.”

Shaun winces, face crumpling a bit and Lauren sees red. She excuses herself hastily and charges right across the room.

“Fuck off, you little shits, or I swear to _God_ , I’m gonna do the planet a solid and kick you so hard in the nut that no spawn of yours will ever pollute it!”

The boys look a bit startled. “What a bunch of losers,” they scoff as they leave.

Lauren huffs and takes a deep breath. She puts a hand on Shaun’s arm, studying him, “You ok?”

Shaun nods. “I’m used to it. It’s nothing.”

Lauren frowns. “No. You don’t deserve to get used to that crap treatment,” she says firmly. “If they ever say another thing to you again, I _will_ kick them in the balls.”

Shaun laughs softly. “I’ll help. Thanks, Lauren.”

Lauren smiles and gives him a tight hug.

The rest of the lunch proceeds without further incident and, as they clean everything up, Ally lifts the box with the buttons, nearly all of them still there.

“I suppose we got a bit ambitious with those,” she says with a soft laugh. “Wearing one of these is like wearing a target on your back.”

“Or a sign that screams ‘please come and kick my ass’,” Shaun interjects as Ally gives him the box of buttons.

“P-people are still afraid,” Christie stutters, and Lauren nods.

“Yeah, we have to give them time to gather strength and come around. And I just want to say that I’m proud of all of you. We did a great job today.”

“Team Rebel for the win!” Ally squeals and sticks her hand out, looking at them eagerly.

Lauren rolls her eyes fondly and indulges her, placing her hand above hers. Shaun laughs and adds his hand in the mix. And then Christie giggles and puts her hand above theirs. They all turn to look expectantly at Ian.

Ian stares at them unimpressed, before he heaves a tired sigh and reluctantly joins them.

 

 

Lauren is in high spirits throughout the rest of the school day, but then something happens in her last class of the day.

It’s Biology and she’s sitting in the front seat, diligently taking notes as the teacher drones on about the asexual reproduction of the protozoa.

It starts with a slight discomfort in her tummy, but nothing she can’t ignore. As it gradually gets worse, she worries that she’s getting her period early, but this stomach ache isn’t one she associated with menstrual cramps. And then her tummy makes a sound — a tiny, bubbly sound — followed by an all too familiar tight tension in her stomach.

The urgency of the situation hits her and she abruptly shoots to her feet, causing the teacher to halt mid-sentence and stare at her along with the rest of the class.

“Uh,” she stutters, cheeks burning, “may I be excused to the restroom?”

Her teacher, Mrs. Edwards, frowns disapprovingly.  “The class started ten minutes ago, you should’ve used your time more wisely.”

Lauren grits her teeth. If she doesn’t get to the restrooms _NOW_ she might have an accident that’ll send her crawling into a hole and awaiting death’s mercy.

“I’m sorry,” she says, “I’ll be quick.”

Mrs. Edwards shakes her head and releases a life-tired sigh as she reaches for the yellow pass. As she turns to hand it to Lauren, the most embarrassing thing happens; Lauren’s stomach finds that the best, most appropriate time to make the loudest bubbling noise in the dead quiet classroom.

Lauren snatches the pass out of Mrs. Edwards hand and storms out of the class, her face burning brighter than a thousand suns. She bursts into the closest restroom and more or less dives into a stall, barely managing to pull up her skirt and her underwear down before the loud, ugly explosion erupts.

Lauren feels like her intestines are falling out of her ass. When the worst is over, she’s positively _sweating_. She doesn’t think it can get worse, but then she hears the sound of a toilet flushing.

She’s _mortified_ that someone heard her basically shitting her brains out and that it’ll doubtless give her countless haters more ammunition against her. And the _smell_. She quickly flushes, whispering a prayer for the earth to swallow her up whole.

The door a couple of stalls down opens and Lauren hastily lifts her feet, so her heavy boots aren’t visible in the gap underneath the stall door. She holds her breath and listens to the girl stand by the sink and aggressively wash her hands.

Lauren calms down when the girl starts to leave but then she peeks a glance at the girl’s boots and they are rather familiar.

“Ally?” she gambles, voice strangely hoarse.

The boots stop up by her stall door at once.

“Lauren?”

Lauren releases her breath and lowers her cramping legs. “Thank God, it’s you.”

“Are you ok?” Ally asks. “It sounded like you were fighting a war in there.”

Lauren groans. “I saw my life flash before my eyes for a moment...let me — um... let me finish and I’ll come out.”

Once she’s certain she can trust her bowels to behave, she cleans up and meets Ally outside the restroom.

“I guess we both ate something we shouldn’t,” she says with a soft laugh.

“What, you had the runs too?” Lauren asks surprised.

“I was literally _this close_ to tears before you walked in, praying for Jesus to save me. It must’ve been the cafeteria food.”

“I didn’t eat the cafeteria food today,” Lauren argues, her brows coming together in a deep frown as her gut tells her that something isn’t right. “And I didn’t see the whole school in here. Just us two. There’s something wrong.”

“I don’t know what you’re getting at, but I have to go back to class,” Ally says as she walks backwards, sending Lauren an air kiss. “Talk to you later.”

The suspicion gnaws in Lauren for the rest of the lesson to the point where she can’t properly concentrate in class. She knows that it could just have been a coincidence that both her and Ally were struck by acute diarrhea, but knowing who they are and their status in this school, that’s hard to believe.

She manages to shrug it off until she’s texting her campaign group later that day and they discover that they’ve all had stomach problems throughout the day. That sends the the alarms in Lauren’s head _screeching._

Christie is the only one who hasn’t had any problems and the only thing they've eaten that she hasn’t are the cupcakes.

Conclusion? The cupcakes are the culprit. There were two different batches of cupcakes, one they got from Jacob Sagittarius’ mom — an eager freshmen wearing too much cologne — and the other batch was from Ally.

Ian blames it on Ally, reasoning that Jacob’s mother is a professional and Ally gets passionate defending her superior baking skills. As the group starts to agree that the blame is on Jacob and his shitty cupcakes — no pun intended — Lauren still has an itching suspicion that this somehow leads to the one person who would be cunning enough to execute this.

**LaurenJerg: IT’S CAMILA THAT QUEEN BITCH I KNOW IT IN MY HEART**

**Shaundross: ok...I don’t like the girl either but how does this track back to her**

**AllyB: lately, if lauren stubs her toe she’ll be like ‘THANKS CAMILA!!’**

Lauren scoffs and rolls her eyes, sending back a sarcastic ‘haha’. She knows Camila has _something_ to do with it and she’ll prove it if it’s the last thing she does.

It doesn’t get better when Lauren is reminded that they weren't the only ones to consume the cupcakes. The nice reminder? @sipthegreentea. The gossip twitter — that has been attracting more and more followers and popularity as it covers the presidential campaign — has replied to a tweet from some girl that Lauren remembers as a sweet freshman girl. The girl tweeted that she got a bad stomach ache from the cupcakes given out at Lauren’s promo event and that one tweet opens up to a flood of kids agreeing with her as @sipthegreentea encourages them to tag it _#shittycupcakes_.

Lauren can’t believe that her campaign is getting hurt before it even got a chance at starting properly. She buries her head in a pillow and just _screams_ in frustration and anger.

 

 

The next day in school people are coughing dumb jokes about the cupcake disaster behind her back and Lauren makes eye-contact with Camila once in between classes and Camila has the fucking _nerve_ to smirk at her.

“It’s her, I _know_ it!” She hisses as she violently slams her locker closed, scaring the living daylight out of Ally.

“I know she’s El-Diablo in teenage girl form, _but_ we can’t know for sure,” Ally says reasonably.

If Lauren didn’t know for sure before, she definitely knows with absolute certainty when she sees none other than Jacob Sagittarius hanging out with the cool kids later that same day. And if that isn’t suspicious, Lauren doesn’t know what is.

The thing is, Jacob Sagittarius is a lowly freshman, so far down the metaphorical food pyramid that he might as well be invisible. But somehow, he has managed to crawl all the way to the top in a matter of days.

Lauren is _seething_. She attempts to confront him but Jacob Sagittarius is a slimy little shit who practically runs in the opposite direction every time he sees her. She stops chasing him when she realizes that he’s just another victim in this ruthless, toxic environment.

You know who isn’t a victim of this environment, but rather contributes to it?

Camila Cabello.

Lauren reels her anger in and forces herself to wait for the opportunity to get Camila alone — she doesn’t need any witnesses in case she gets so angry that she murders her. The opportunity presents itself when Lauren has a gap period in between Algebra and AP Literature. And coincidentally, so does Camila — or maybe not so much a coincidence as the higher powers granting Lauren a chance to rid the world of evil.

Of course, little Miss Overachiever uses the gap period productively in the library.  Lauren follows her, watching her from a distance like a predator might a prey as Camila finds her way to a cozy little nook. She sinks into a couch and reaches into her bag, pulling out a heavy book. She proceeds to shake off her boots and pull her feet up on the couch, making herself comfortable.

Lauren sneaks up behind her, so close that she can smell the light, clean perfume she’s come to associate with Camila. She wants nothing more than to sink her fingers in Camila’s long, glossy hair and pull as hard as she can. But she doesn’t. She’s spent many hours calming herself down and she _won’t_ give Camila the satisfaction of seeing her seething ( _she_ didn’t get that satisfaction so she’ll be damned if she lets Camila have it).

“I know you did it,” Lauren says, and smirks when Camila lets out an undignified squeak and drops the book she’d been reading on the floor, jerking her head towards Lauren with big, startled eyes. At least Lauren will have _this_ satisfaction.

Camila quickly composes herself. “You’re creepy,” she scoffs and bends down to pick up the book. Lauren glances at the front cover — _A Brief History of Time_ by Stephen Hawking. Lauren would rather die than admit that she’s reluctantly impressed by Camila’s reading choice. “Add that to the list of your other ‘charming’ attributes.”

“I guess I had higher expectations of you, but I shouldn’t be surprised that you can stoop that low,” Lauren sneers, fingers itching to sink into flesh.

Camila turns her body so she doesn’t have to crane her neck to give Lauren a raised brow, “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says with a pleased smile that indicates that she knows _exactly_ what Lauren is talking about.

“Cut the bullshit, Cabello,” Lauren snaps. “I know you sabotaged our cupcakes by luring Jacob Sagittarius with popularity and high school glory.”

Camila tilts her head and looks absolutely delighted. “I’ll add ‘paranoia’ to the list as well.”

Lauren has to use _everything_ in her not to lose her fucking mind. She takes several deep breaths and says,

“You must be threatened by me to resort to such delinquent pranks,” Lauren says, and is pleased to see the corner of Camila’s mouth twitch a bit down. “And you should be. Because after your little dirty stunt? This is _war_.”

Camila slowly puts her book down and rises to her full length, which Lauren will happily remind everyone is shorter than her — especially without her heeled boots. She crosses her arms and smiles cockily at Lauren.

“Oh please, Jauregui. I’ll _destroy_ you.”

Lauren’s nose flares, jaw clenching.

“Game on, bitch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you soooo much to everyone who's been leaving kudos and comments! it may not seem like much but it brings a smile to our faces and makes us feel like all this work is worth it <3


	6. the lunch table mess

“Why so serious?”

Camila jumps a little on her seat, startled by Normani’s voice. She fiddles with her mechanical pencil and exhales.

“You’ve been spaced out for a while.”

“Sorry,” she murmurs, facing her friend. “I was just thinking.”

“You’re obsessing over her again, aren’t you?” Normani sighs, placing a hand on her leg, close to the knee. Camila drops her pencil to find Normani’s hand and lace their fingers together. She accepted long ago that Normani keeps her grounded and keeps her in check. “Mila, you gotta stop that.”

They’re in homeroom for the first period of the day and there’s a low buzz of sound around them since Ms. Diaz doesn’t care what they do in that time as long as they don’t walk around the classroom.

“She’s been staring at me since we got to homeroom, Mani,” Camila explains, biting her lip.

“And how would you know that if you weren’t staring back at her?” Normani says, lips pursed and one eyebrow raised.

“She’s sitting in my line of sight,” Camila huffs, elbowing Normani to get that smug expression out of her face. “I mean it, Mani. I think she’s planning something and it’s freaking me out.”

As if knowing they’re talking about her, Lauren chooses that moment to chance a glance at them. She does a quick salute when she notices they’re both already looking her way, a grin forming on her lips.

“Did you see that?!” Camila whisper-shouts. “She doesn’t just  _ smile _ when she looks at me! She usually scowls or tries to kill me with her eyes!”

“I think the lady doth pay too much attention to the new girl,” Normani jokes. Camila glares at her. “Honestly, who cares if she has something planned?”

“I do,” Camila grunts, letting go of Normani’s hand and crossing her arms in annoyance.

“Mila, you’re the smartest person I know,” Normani says, patting her leg. “Whatever Lauren comes up with, you’ll just come up with something even better. I don’t get why you’re so worried.”

“I don’t either.” Camila rests her head against Normani’s shoulder, deciding she’s done with her tantrum. Physical proximity always helps when she’s feeling anxious and Normani knows that. “She just gets under my skin.”

“Don’t you have that interview with Zayn Malik today?”

“Yeah, after lunch.” Camila hides her face in Normani’s shoulder. “I don’t like him. I thought I could go without an interview like last year.”

“No offense but last year no one ran against you,” Normani teases, kissing the top of Camila’s head. “You’ll be fine, baby. I have faith in you.”

“Pray for me?”

“Bitch please, as if you needed divine intervention,” Normani taunts, making Camila laugh. “But I’ll make sure to squeeze a prayer in for you when my family tries that new church next Sunday.”

“I need it today, Mani, you suck,” Camila whines, cuddling closer to her. “I’ll take the Sunday prayer anyway, though.”

Lauren looks at them again as Camila is shifting to face forward and their gazes meet. Camila wets her lips out of nervousness but she notices that Lauren’s eyes lower to follow the motion.

It fills her with a… weirdly satisfying sensation that boosts her confidence, and when Lauren’s eyes lift back up, Camila smiles at her with a wink.

Lauren rolls her eyes and turns towards the front of the classroom.

Camila just smirks.

 

 

It’s pure coincidence that Camila is walking behind Dinah and Normani when they enter the cafeteria that day. Not that they walk in a particular order, but Camila is typically the first one entering the cafeteria when they walk there together because she’s always  _ starving _ by lunch time. As luck would have it, she’d stopped for half a minute to confirm the interview’s place and time with Zayn Malik as their paths had crossed in the hallway, and the two traitors had kept on going as if it was none of their business.

(well, technically, it wasn’t. but  _ still _ .)

“Oh, hell no,” Dinah snarls, fingers curling into tight fists when she stops a couple of feet before the double doors.

Normani halts as she hears her and so Camila bumps into her, “What the hell, Mani?”

She nods towards something and Camila moves to stand between her and Dinah, not understanding what’s gotten them so worked up.

It doesn’t take long for her to get it though.

Right at center stage, in one of the few round tables in the cafeteria, the one by the largest window,  _ the _ Clique’s table, is Lauren Jauregui sitting with four of her losers. Camila doesn’t even know half of them, just Hernandez and Shaun Ross from her Math class.

Camila narrows her eyes and feels her chest tighten with rage,  her whole body humming with tension. She isn’t even aware that she’s let out a growl but Dinah extends her arm, preventing her from storming across the cafeteria to beat Lauren  _ fucking _ Jauregui into a pulp.

“Mila, there’s the race for student body president. I get that it’s frustrating for you but it’s a thing and any student can run,” she says, voice even and gaze never leaving the table,  _ their _ table. “And  _ then _ there’s messing with us out of pettiness.”

“This fight is with us too,” Normani adds. “Guess she was up to something indeed, damn.” 

Camila barely hears them. She’s so angry she could cry but she won’t, Lauren doesn’t get to have  _ that. _

“Breathe, Walz,” Dinah instructs. “It’s fine. We’re gonna do the power walk of our lives, we’re gonna get there and we’re gonna kick their asses back to the loserdom they crawled out of.”

Normani snickers and they all exchange quick glances. “Let’s do this.”

The moment they step inside the cafeteria, they can hear the noise of several conversations happening at the same time be replaced with a tense, deafening silence that makes the clickety-clack of their heels resound even louder. All pairs of eyes are set on them now but they don’t acknowledge anyone. They’re used to this.  _ This _ is what makes them school royalty.

Lauren’s gang, unsurprisingly, is the last one to stop whatever they are doing and, when they spot them coming, the red-haired girl widens her eyes more than they thought was humanly possible and makes a run for it.

Camila doesn’t even pretend to be shocked at that but what’s worse, neither does Lauren. She doesn’t look intimidated or afraid, she’s just sitting there, with her sloppy tie knot and her extra open shirt button that exposes her collarbones, comfortable and lazy as if she expected all of this.

“Why, hello there, guys,” Dinah greets, in a sugary-sweet tone. Hernandez and Shaun Ross shudder at that, and Camila would be a lot more satisfied to see that if she weren’t so fucking pissed right now. “I see you’ve saved our seats for us, that’s so kind.”

“But we’re here now,” Normani says, placing a hand on her hip. The fierceness of her glare could make a grown man give out a shriek. “You can go.”

“We haven’t finished eating,” Lauren replies, with a shrug. She stabs a potato with her fork and brings it to her mouth. “Give us a couple of minutes.”

“Actually,” the Asian boy cuts in, grabbing his backpack. His tray is empty. “Shaun and I have class now.” He doesn’t seem scared, his expression conveys nothing but boredom. “Will you guys be alright?”

Hernandez is now having a full-blown shaking fit but Lauren just nods.

There are a few moments of uneasy awkwardness as the boys gather their things and scurry away. Lauren keeps eating, oblivious to the glares she’s receiving. Hernandez whispers something to her but she’s dismissed with a hand wave.

Dinah studies them and then drags a chair back, the one positioned in front of the other two. She makes a lot of noise in the process and Camila is reminded that everyone is watching. “Guess now there’s room for all of us then.” Dinah plops down on the chair rather unceremoniously. “Can you get me some food, Mani? You know what I like.”

Normani rolls her eyes and leaves her bag by Dinah, pulling Camila out of there and towards the line.

“Now, girlies,” they hear Dinah start before they’re out of earshot, “what the  _ fuck _ were you thinking?”

Camila is quite content to let others fight battles for her whenever it’s convenient. She’s always been great at delegating tasks.

“Can you believe that hoe?” Normani asks when they’re at the buffet area picking their food. There isn’t a line anymore because they’re on second lunch period that day. “The nerve.”

“I can’t stand her,” Camila says, using unnecessary force to serve herself with a dose of mashed potatoes. “I want her to be run over by a big yellow school bus and  _ die _ .”

“It’s not the food’s fault, Mila. Chill.”

She glares at Normani, making a show of dropping a meatball on her plate with spite. “Why is she even here anyway? Who gets transferred for senior year?”

Camila follows after Normani and her mood gets even worse as they approach their table and the deplorables still haven’t made themselves scarce.

“Maybe you can ask her that since she hasn’t gotten a grip yet,” Normani tells her, moving to sit between Dinah and Hernandez and setting a plate in front of Dinah. “Here you go, babe.” Camila wants to kill Normani in that moment because that forces her to take a seat next to the devil herself.

“Ask me what?”

“Who dropped you at birth,” Camila quips, moving her chair as close to Dinah as possible. That places her at a foot distance from Lauren.

It’s not enough.

“Wow, Cabello,” Lauren says, bringing her hands to her heart, her face masked with some sort of puppy expression. “You wound me with your unintelligent insults. I thought I deserved better.”

“You deserve  _ nothing _ ,” Camila snaps, gritting her teeth. She takes a deep breath, hating how everything in her, her whole body, becomes hyper-aware when she’s around Lauren. Like right now, she wishes she could concentrate on the delicious meatballs on her plate but her nose is obsessed with the smell of Lauren’s shampoo. She takes a bite anyway, mostly because she needs to give her body something else to focus on.

“Why did you come to Greenwich Academy, new girl?” Normani asks, trying to steer the conversation back to where it started and away from potential name-calling. She smiles at Ally for a brief moment because the girl has looked nothing but genuinely petrified for the past five minutes.

“Yeah, Jauregui,” Camila joins, eyes glinting. “What’s the sob story? There must be one, right? After all, you’re a sorry excuse for a human being so I expect nothing less.”

Lauren turns her head to Camila slowly, and offers a smile so fake Camila doesn’t know how she managed to curl her lips up. 

“My mom’s super into the freedom ideals of the good ol’ United States and she always says we need to fight against tyrants  — y’know, since we’re Cuban and all, we know a bit about that stuff.” She rests her chin on her fist and stares at Camila like she knows exactly what she’s doing. “So when she heard you existed, she thought Greenwich would be the perfect place to polish my anti-establishment skills. Gotta give it to the old lady...” Pursing her lips, Lauren arches one eyebrow that Camila wants to rip right out of her face, “She was right.”

Dinah holds her wrist in a tight grip before Camila can do anything. She harrumphs, annoyed that Dinah knows her so well and has such quick reflexes.

“Get outta here, Lauser,” Dinah says, in a serious tone, not looking up from her phone. “You’ve made your point. Enough is enough.”

Hernandez stands up right away with a quick, “Bye, ladies. Bless y’all,” and disappears into the end of the cafeteria to put her tray down in the tray holders.

“Yeah, I’m done with my lunch anyway.” Lauren takes her sweet time getting up and ready to go. And of fucking course, she couldn’t just do that, no. She has to look at Camila one last time, eyes lingering on the bow tie she’s wearing instead of the uniform’s tie, and smirk, “Enjoy your interview, Bows.”

And there it was. The reason behind this whole lunch scandal.

That  _ bitch _ .

 

 

The interview goes horribly wrong, as Camila knew it would. She’d had twenty minutes between the time Lauren left the cafeteria and the time she had to be in the computer room to meet with Zayn Malik. Twenty minutes are insufficient for Camila to get rid of all the hatred, anger and frustration Jauregui brings out in her, so when she gets to the computer room and snaps at Zayn to hurry up, she’s sure nothing good will come of it.

It’s not that Zayn doesn’t like her  — Camila doesn’t think he has strong feelings for her either way  — , but two candidates on equal ground, two candidates who despise each other, make for much more appealing news stories than an easy win for Camila. And thus, he doesn’t go easy on her. He pokes and prods, pushing all of her buttons. Camila is used to people trying to get a rise out of her, she knows what she has to say or do to shut them down, but what Camila  _ isn’t _ used to, is people pushing her buttons when they’re already well-pressed and ready to pop.

She insults Zayn at least once. Not like, a real insult, but it isn’t nice regardless. It slips out when he starts questioning her ability to lead the class due to how much she has on her plate this year with all of her AP classes and top college applications and also handling the end of her relationship with Liam. Camila feels very justified in her insult after such a low blow. 

She then calls him out on how most of his questions are about Lauren and what she’s feeling about being challenged and having an opponent instead of the interview being about what she has to offer as student body president, which had been the focus of Lauren’s interview. He ignores her  — obviously, no surprises there,  — and persists on the same line of questioning. Camila ends up cutting the interview short. She just up and leaves, no explanations given.

She’s beyond caring at this point. She’ll fix whatever needs to be fixed later when she gets home.

 

 

A meme is born out of her interview. That makes Camila smile  — anything that results in memes is never a PR disaster. She’s also more relaxed after taking a long bath with her favorite salts and scented candles to help her organize her thoughts on what she should do next. She doesn’t indulge often but she sure as hell deserved it after the day she’d had.

Sitting at her desk, Camila hasn’t checked the video of the interview yet, she’s a bit afraid to. When the third  _ ‘you sneaky little rat!’ _ gif crosses her twitter timeline, she gathers up her courage and presses play on the YouTube video.

It’s bad. Predictably, Zayn had edited out all of her best lines and kept all the moments that make her look like a deranged politician. He had cut out the part where she told him he was too focused on Lauren and not on her campaign so her abrupt exit comes across as the spoiled reaction of a brat. She really wants to discredit him and expose him for his favoring, self-serving ass, but she doesn’t want to bring more attention to that interview.

She spends a couple of hours writing and practicing a speech before recording it with her webcam. It’s short and sweet, only two minutes. She sets the camera in the perfect angle to fit her double bed, her guitar haphazardly thrown on top. The room is the right amount of messy and she turns off the ceiling light, leaving on only the lamps on her desk and on one of her nightstands to give off a cozy vibe. Camila smiles a lot, her hand gestures are open and wide, she’s wearing her Hogwarts hoodie, and she’s aware all of this makes her cute and relatable. She talks about what she’s achieved as student body president before  — she is the reason they now have that five-star-hotel-quality food in the cafeteria, after all  — and the plans she has for this year. The truth is she knows all the teachers and school clerks she needs to know to make things happen and she’s been making things happen for two years, not to mention she’s been class president since freshman year and she’d held both positions in junior year. Something she has every intention of repeating this year.

People seem to forget that she didn’t become popular just by smiling and looking pretty.

She doesn’t upload the video to YouTube, she keeps it to twitter with the caption  _ ‘tfw you have to make your own campaign videos because no one wants to ask you the right questions #BitchesGetShitDone’ _ and then wastes a few minutes turning her  _ ‘I’m done with you’ _ interview jab at Zayn into a subtitled gif and tweets it to him,

**@zaynmalik be a better journalist #riggedmedia**

After that, she finds Lauren’s twitter handle and takes several deep breaths to avoid feeling annoyed at the girl’s glee over her failed interview.  She can’t believe she has Cuba in common with that asshole, talk about unnecessary connections. Attaching the  _ ‘you sneaky little rat!’ _ gif to her tweet, all she writes is,

**I see you @LaurenJauregui**

Her mentions start blowing up but she wants nothing more to do with twitter for the night; she feels like those are excellent three tweets to keep her relevant and on top. She only has one final thing to do so she opens @sipthegreentea’s DMs and links them her video.

**camEEla cabeYo: hey**

**camEEla cabeYo: can you please make your own tweet with that to your followers? thx**

**choke on that tea: you got it girl**

If her mentions had been blowing up before, now even though she’s using her computer, she’s forced to put her phone on silent because she can’t stand the vibrating buzz anymore. She scrolls through @sipthegreentea’s timeline out of curiosity and eventually,

Camila doesn’t want it, but her heart stops when she sees it. It drops to her stomach and it churns and twists, leaving her feeling sick and terrified. She grabs her guitar and plays a few chords, tries to sing her favorite lullaby again and again, until her heartbeat returns to its normal, regular drum, and breathing is no longer a chore. Swallowing, she browses through @sipthegreentea and Lauren’s twitter accounts to check if Lauren’s reacted to that. She hasn’t, not that she can see at least, and Camila sighs in relief. Lots of other people have reacted though, and it seems that stupid gossip twitter had created a mini-movement out of nowhere. She wasn’t aware Greenwich was  _ that _ into femslash.

Camila’s acquainted with internet culture and shipping, maybe she can use it to her advantage.

But that is a concern for another day. Now she has to find out everything Lauren Jauregui’s done with her sad, pathetic life, and shared with the internet, so she can formulate a new plan to kick her down and keep her there.

Opening Google, Camila starts her research.


	7. trash photos

Soccer has been a big part of Lauren’s life since she was little; one of her earliest memories is when she was in diapers and unsteady on her chubby little feet, kicking clumsily at a ball and her father crowing that she was a natural. And it wasn’t just her father being the typical parent who thought their toddler’s diaper was heavy with gold nuggets, no, Lauren  _ breathes _ and  _ sweats  _ and _ bleeds  _ soccer. It is her escape from reality.

When she’s sprinting down the field with the soccer ball glued to her feet, the wind in her hair and the smell of freshly cut grass in her nose, she is  _ invincible _ . The drama and hardships of her life fade into the background like white noise as she flies on an adrenaline cloud and absolutely  _ nothing _ can bring her down— 

A body slams into her so hard that she’s sent tumbling ungracefully to the ground like a rag doll.  For a brief moment, she’s disoriented, greedily sucking in the breath that had been knocked out of her. Then she realizes that her precious ball has been stolen and the perpetrator is none other than Dinah fucking Jane. Lauren quickly clambers to her feet and gives chase but Dinah is already too far ahead.

Dinah whizzes across the field with intent and ferocity like a freaking  _ missile _ , dribbling the ball with practised ease. The girls on Lauren’s team have no chance of stopping her, despite their best efforts. The goalie looks terrified as Dinah charges towards her, shooting the ball into the net behind her before she even realizes what’s happening.

Lauren is  _ this close _ to screaming in sheer frustration, because this isn’t the first time Dinah has used a dirty tackle on her today — it’s the third freaking time and therefore not a coincidence. Dinah Jane has it out for her today and Lauren knows it’s about Lauren hijacking the Clique’s table the other day. 

Lauren has tried to not succumb and endure whatever Dinah has dished out for her today, because surely, Dinah’s going to be bored soon. That hope dies tragically when Dinah announces it’s time for goal practices and looks directly at Lauren,

“New girl! Start out in the goal,  _ go _ !”

Lauren blinks and opens her mouth to protest, because she  _ knows _ this won’t end pleasantly for her. However, before she can even formulate a word, Dinah barks at her,

“Go,  _ girl _ ! We ain’t got all day here!”

Lauren bites hard into the inside of her cheek and forces a smile as she jogs to the goal. She gulps when she realizes that Dinah is planning to go first, and she knows she’s dead when Dinah gives her a slightly crazy smirk.

Lauren is dreadful as she watches Dinah aggressively dribble down the field before she kicks the ball with so much force that it makes a sound that reverberates against the empty bleachers. It feels like slow motion as Lauren watches the white and black rocket shoot through the air and realizes that Dinah hadn’t been aiming at the net behind her, she’d been aiming at  _ her _ . At the realization, Lauren lets out an undignified shriek and throws herself to the ground, narrowly dodging the ball as it slams into the net behind her.

“What the fuck was that!” Dinah yells as Lauren sits on her knees, feeling like she just experienced a near-death situation.

A shadow falls over her and Lauren lifts her head to look at Dinah who’s staring down at her with an unimpressed expression.

“Focus, new girl,” Dinah says warningly. “You’ve been slacking lately.”

Lauren huffs and rises to her feet, glaring at Dinah. “I’ve been  _ slacking _ lately? You just tried to  _ kill _ me.”

Dinah chuckles, “Girl, stop being so damn overdramatic. This is soccer. Soccer is war. If you can’t stand the fire then get out of my kitchen.”

“I think you mean ‘if you can’t stand the  _ heat _ —”

“I know damn well what I meant!” Dinah interrupts, offended by the correction. “You could’ve caught that ball if you had been prioritizing your soccer practice rather than your petty feuds with Camila.”

“She started it!” Lauren exclaims petulantly.

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound childish at all,” Dinah says and rolls her eyes so hard Lauren can’t imagine it doesn’t hurt. She picks up the ball she tried to annihilate Lauren with. 

“Listen, we haven’t lost a game since I became soccer captain and we’ve got our first game this season very soon, so I’ll be damned if I let you jeopardize this team because you’re too busy with your campaign drama. I  _ will _ literally kill you.”

As much as Lauren hates to admit it, she can’t deny that Dinah Jane is fucking scary when she wants to be. She’s got that look in her eyes that makes you believe she was a mafia boss in a past life. Lauren admires her passion for the team, but she’d admire it a lot more if she wasn’t the object of Dinah’s wrath at the moment.

“Am I clear?” Dinah asks and Lauren opens her mouth to defend herself, but once again, Dinah doesn’t let her speak.

“Good,” she says and shoves the ball into Lauren’s chest. “We’ve wasted enough time. Let’s continue.”

Needless to say, by the time practice is over, Lauren has a hard time finding a spot on her body that doesn’t scream in agony. She takes her sweet time in the showers, letting the warm water wash over her battered body and soothe her sore muscles.

By the time she’s changed out of her soccer kits and blow-dried her hair, most of the girls have left except a few still lingering around, putting on shiny lipglosses and braiding their damp hair — among them is Dinah Jane.

Lauren cautiously approaches her as the girl combs through her thick mane of blond hair.  Her hair’s got character and Lauren must say the wild, untamable curls suit Dinah’s personality.

“You’ve got great hair,” she compliments with sincerity.

Dinah briefly stops combing her hair to glance at her, and chuckles. “Don’t suck up to me. It doesn’t suit you.”

Lauren rolls her eyes. “It was an honest compliment.”

Dinah drags the comb one last time through her hair before she flips her hair over her shoulder, strikes a pose and admires her reflection. “I know.”

Lauren isn’t sure if it’s directed at the fact that she knows she’s got great hair or that she knows it was an honest compliment. Either way, one thing Lauren knows for sure is that Dinah Jane’s self-esteem isn’t hurting and Lauren can admit that it’s admirable.

Dinah roots through her bag, searching for something and Lauren watches her for a moment.

She clears her throat and stands up straight. 

“Hey,” she says, and Dinah stops what she’s doing to look at her with a raised brow. “I need you to know that I’m 100% committed to this team. Soccer means the world to me and I would never forgive myself if I let this team down. I’m also 100% committed to the presidential campaign and I know that some people just see it as their daily source of drama and gossip, but it’s really important to me that I get my message across. I can do both this team and my campaign without neglecting one of them.”

Dinah is watching her with a slight smile on her lips and that encourages Lauren to continue.

“And look, I know that you’re besties with Camila but that doesn’t have to affect our relationship on the soccer field.”

Dinah’s little smile turns into a full-blown smile and erupts in a soft laugh. She nods and gives Lauren an impressed look,

“Nice little speech,” she says, “but girl  _ please _ , like I would let your fight with Camila interfere with my soccer. I’m more professional than that. I even told Camila she isn’t allowed to mess with you the days leading up to game day.”

Lauren is honestly surprised. “Really?”

“Yes,  _ really _ ,” Dinah says. “I need you on your A game, ‘cause I know that you can accomplish a lot when you put your heart into it. You’re a great addition to the team and straight up savage with the ball, girl.”

Lauren feels a pleasant flush of happiness, because as much as she preaches about validation coming from within, validation coming from Dinah, who’s an extremely talented soccer player herself, feels freaking  _ great _ .

“Thank you,” she says, grinning from ear to ear.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Remember, if I catch you slacking off, I  _ will _ sack you,” Dinah threatens but it’s said with a smile and Lauren smirks, “Gotcha.”

“What are you looking for?” she asks when Dinah returns to rooting around her bag with furrowed brows.

“My damn lip balm! Goddamn it! It’s not here, I must’ve dropped it.”

Lauren reaches into her own bag and produces her slightly red tinted lip balm. “You can use mine, if you don’t mind sharing.”

“You’re good for  _ something _ ,” Dinah says with a playful smile and accepts the lip balm, swiping it across her puckered lips.

“Thanks,” she says as she returns it. She hikes her bag up on her shoulder and slides on her shades. She throws her bomber jacket over her crop top and checks out her reflection. “ _ God _ , I’m happy we don’t have to wear those fugly uniforms today.”

“ _ Same _ ,” Lauren says and gives her own reflection an appreciative glance; she’s wearing her favorite flowy crop top and ripped, skinny jeans — she’s forever grateful for Greenwich’s tradition of Fridays being the day where the students are allowed to wear whatever the fuck they want. She was going crazy in those pleated skirts, honestly.

They walk out into the fresh air with the last few girls who haven’t left yet. One of them, Jade Thirwall, a tiny midfielder, gossips about a potential, scandalous affair between the new, young and hot History teacher Mr. Cooper and some sophomore girl called Angela Kruplin.

“She was the only one who got an A+ on her History essay,” Jade gossips.

“Forget an A+, I wouldn’t mind sucking him dry for nothing in return,” Dinah says and sends the girls giggling and laughing and shouting choruses of agreements.

“Don’t you agree?” Dinah asks and peers curiously at Lauren after she catches Lauren roll her eyes.

Lauren shrugs. “I’m not interested in predatory, power imbalanced relations.” As gorgeous as Mr. Cooper is, it doesn’t excuse his inappropriate behavior — if it’s true that is, as the majority of the gossip that circulates around here is a load of unsubstantial trash.

Dinah smirks at her. “Nah, according to twitter, your sexual interests lie elsewhere.”

Lauren stops abruptly and looks at Dinah. “What is  _ that  _ supposed to mean?” 

Dinah stops as well and stares at her with a raised brow, lowering her shades just to send her a look that translates into ‘ _ you know exactly what that means’ _ . Lauren just stares back at her as if she doesn’t know  _ exactly _ what Dinah is alluding to. Dinah rolls her eyes and coughs a phrase into her fist. A phrase that makes the girls laugh but sends a shudder down Lauren’s spine.

_ ‘’Camren.’’ _

A satanic thing spawned out of freaking nowhere by none other than a certain gossip twitter. Lauren was horrified when she saw it all over her timeline and it’s simply  _ beyond _ her how people could see anything  _ but  _ animosity between her and Camila.

“That’s downright  _ delusional _ ,” Lauren scoffs and starts walking again. “Honestly, when I find out who’s behind that gossip twitter, I  _ will _ make them literally choke on their fabricated ‘tea’.”

That makes Dinah laugh loudly. “I would  _ pay _ to see that.”

Before Lauren can respond to that, they’re interrupted by obnoxious wolf whistles. They all turn towards the source to discover it’s some of the boys from the soccer team. They’ve all got their soccer kits on and their gym bags hanging from their shoulders, presumably on their way to practice. 

Dinah shoots them a withering glare. “Yo! How dare you little boys whistle at us, do we look like fucking dogs to you?”

The boys snicker as they come closer and among them, Lauren recognizes Camila’s ex boyfriend, Liam Payne.

“No, far from,” one of the boys says to Dinah, flashing a cocky smile, handsome if it wasn’t for the fuck boy hairstyle.  “You’re the most beautiful woman in this world, baby.”

Dinah scoffs and flips her hair over her shoulder. “Ok, Finn, first of all, you don’t need to tell me something I already know.” That makes the girls giggle and Lauren stifles an amused chuckle. “Second of all, I’m not your  _ ‘baby’ _ .”

The boys roar with laughter and smack Finn on his shoulders in mock comfort. Finn however, doesn’t look discouraged, if anything, he looks even more enthralled by Dinah.

He reaches up to touch her hair but she smacks his hand away. “God, baby, why are you so cold?” he asks. “Who hurt you?”

Dinah sighs exasperatedly and rolls her eyes. “I might end up hurting  _ you _ , Finn.”

Finn grins boyishly. “If that’s what you’re into, baby.” He grabs her wrist. “Hey, let me just talk to you.” He ignores her protests and drags her a couple of feet away for an illusion of privacy.

As much as Lauren is amused, she has to pick her little brother up so while everyone is eavesdropping on Finn and Dinah, she turns to leave. 

“Hey,” a voice behind her causes her to stop and turn around, coming to face with none other than Liam Payne.

“Uh...hi,” she responds, and glances over his shoulder at where everyone has their attention on Dinah and Finn.

“I’m Liam,” he says with a sweet smile, one hand clutching the strap of his gym bag, the other buried deep in his pocket.

“I know,” she says as she wonders what to make of this. “Lauren.”

“I know,” Liam teases with a grin. “Everyone knows. You’ve become quite infamous around here.”

Lauren scoffs softly and shrugs. “I guess you could call it that.”

“I think you’re brave,” Liam says. “What you’re doing… it takes a lot of guts.”

Lauren blinks, thrown by that. 

“Um...thanks,” she says unsurely, and glances fleetingly at the soccer girls and boys, but thankfully they aren’t paying them any attention. She knows how much people around here love to misinterpret situations and blow them out of proportion. 

Liam just stares at her inquiringly with his puppy eyes and a smile, and Lauren clears her throat awkwardly. 

“So,” she takes a few steps back and points in the direction of the parking lot, “I gotta run.”

Liam runs a finger through his floppy hair and nods. “I’ll see you around, Lauren.”

 

* * *

 

“No, she isn’t superficial just because she’s confident in how she looks — which, by the way, she  _ should  _ be, there’s nothing wrong with that!” Ally is saying as Lauren joins her, Ian and Shaun by the latter’s locker.

“Have you seen her instagram? There are literally only pictures of her,” Shaun points out.

“Um,  _ duh _ , that’s what instagrams are for,” Ally’s sounding rather defensive of this person, so Lauren curiously asks,

“Who are we talking about?”

“Ally’s fraternizing with the enemy,” Ian says without removing his gaze from his phone, paying no mind to the scandalized look on Ally’s face.

Lauren raises a brow at Ally. “What? You’re defending  _ Camila _ ?”

Ally  throws her hands in the air, exasperated. “Everything isn’t about  _ Camila _ , Lauren!”

Ian coughs something that sounds suspiciously like  _ ‘camren’ _ under his breath but when Lauren stares at him, he gives her a blank look that makes Lauren wonder if that word is bothering her so much that she’s starting to hear it everywhere — she could’ve sworn she heard a couple of freshman girls giggle it behind her back.

“It’s about Normani Kordei,” Shaun informs helpfully.

“Listen, I’m not ‘fraternizing’ with her. She goes to my church, so of course I have to be friendly to her. And she’s seriously not as bad as everyone thinks.”

Lauren whips her face back to Ally, surprised. “She goes to church?”

Ally frowns. “That came out awfully judgmental.”

Lauren shakes her head. “No, no, no, I’m just… surprised.” Lauren might harbor some stereotypical ideas about church-going girls that Normani Kordei doesn’t fit — but then again, she doesn’t really know her, all she knows is that she’s one of Camila’s best friends and that alone is enough to make Lauren question her morality.

The bells ring indicating that it’s time for the next class and their little group disperses with quick see you laters. Lauren rounds a corner on her way to her AP Literature class and slows down when she notices a girl bent down fixing the ties on her shoes. Lauren’s eyes zoom in on the girl’s bum, because  _ holy shit _ , it’s the most perfect ass Lauren has ever seen packed in a pair of jeans. Lauren is pleased, but the pleasantry turns sour in three seconds flat when the girl straightens up and turns around, revealing herself as  _ Camila _ .

Lauren lets out a weird shriek as she literally stumbles back, staring at Camila, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

“Y-You!” she snaps, pointing an accusing finger at Camila.

Camila looks at her like she’s a lunatic. “What is your problem, Jauregui?”

Lauren opens and closes her mouth at a loss for a words. She’s aware that she’s acting like a fucking moron and Camila looks like she’s enjoying every second of it. 

“I hate you,” she bites out, at a lack of anything better to say.

Camila raises a brow, unimpressed. “The feeling is mutual.”

Lauren has no witty response to that so she huffs, lowers her face and stomps to the back of the class, sinking into a chair. She breathes a sigh of relief when Mr. Keating enters the room, and tries to concentrate on the new poem they’re going to analyze today. Every time her mind tries to float to the embarrassing incident earlier, she stubbornly steers it back on track. She won’t think about it, let alone admit it to herself.

 

 

Lauren is accompanying Ally to the bathroom towards the end of the day when her phone blows up with messages from her campaign team. They’re all messages telling her to check twitter  _ asap _ and that she isn’t going to like this.

Ally and Lauren look at each other with twin dreadful expression before they grab their phones and open their twitters.

Lauren isn’t expecting what meets her. It’s pictures, pictures of her from a year or so ago and they aren’t exactly  _ flattering _ pictures. They’re pictures of her partying like there’s no tomorrow: there’s one of her dancing on top of a table in skimpy clothes, her chucking down a large jug of beer, one of her sandwiched by a couple of boys on the dance floor with their hands all over her body while she gives a suggestive look to the camera. But of course, the one that’s really garnering all the retweets is the one where’s she’s sucking on a bong.

“Holy Moly… Lauren…” Ally says with her hand covering her mouth. She lifts her gaze from her phone and looks at Lauren, who’s staring at her phone blankly. “You okay?”

Lauren lowers her phone, closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and  _ screams _ . She startles the living daylight of the girl who enters the restroom just then and she gets busy high-tailing it out of there. Once Lauren’s done, Ally is staring fearfully at her.

“Um… it isn’t that bad?” Ally says nervously.  “Look at the bright side.”

“ _ What _ bright side, Ally?” Lauren snaps furiously, her cheeks flushing red, fingers white-knuckling around her phone. “ _ Someone _ dug out pictures of me. Oh my God! That fucking bitch! I’m gonna  _ kill _ her!”

Enough is enough, she’s going to find Camila, tackle her to the floor and choke every last pathetic breath out of her. Before she can get out, Ally blocks the door, lifting her hands wide-eyed in defense when Lauren glares viciously at her.

“Ally,” she says in a controlled tone, “get out of my fucking way.”

“No.” Ally shakes her head firmly. “Not when the devil is whispering in your ear. Just take a deep breath. Come on. You don’t want to do anything stupid.”

“I don’t care! I want to kill her, so I’m going to  _ kill _ her!”

Ally approaches her cautiously and daringly puts her hands on Lauren’s shoulder, squeezing her tense muscles. “If you go out there, screaming like a banshee and assaulting Camila, then you’re going to get expelled and she  _ wins _ . This is what she wants. Don’t give her what she wants.”

Lauren knows Ally is telling the truth, so she follows her instructions as they take several synchronized breaths together. Lauren turns to the sink and splashes some cold water on her burning face.

“She’s such a bitch,” she hisses, glaring into her reflection. “I don’t even know where she found those pictures, that fucking stalker.”

Ally moves in behind her and sinks her fingers into Lauren’s rock hard shoulders, massaging out all the stress and knots as she speaks in a calming voice, “The whole school is probably gonna be joking about you for the next week, so you’re going to have to keep your head high and your murderous urges low.”

Lauren sighs, relaxing into Ally’s skilled hands. She closes her eyes and takes another deep breath.

“I’m gonna hit her back. Hard.”

Ally looks worried. “Perhaps taking the high road would be better? That way she’d look like the evil one who can’t handle that someone is running against her. If you stayed cool and dignified, then everyone would eventually sympathize with you.”

Lauren barely hears what Ally is saying, because she’s staring at Camila’s latest tweet.

“Oh fuck you, bitch!” Lauren snaps and immediately shoots off a response, ignoring Ally’s protests.

**@camilacabello97 just as a president shouldn’t be a manipulative & cunning bitch but I guess we can’t all be perfect #WTFiswrongwithyou**

Ally facepalms and mutters something that sounds like “God help me,” under her breath. 

Lauren ignores her and aggressively waits for a response from Camila. 

**@LaurenJauregui the baseless accusations and childish name-calling only further prove how unfit you are for president :) #highregui**

The fact that Camila is not only playing innocent, but is insisting on tagging her tweets with that ridiculous hashtag, is enough to make Lauren’s blood  _ boil _ . She’s about to respond with an angry rant that is more insults than anything when Ally snaps the phone out of her hand before she can hit send.

“Ally!” Lauren exclaims, and tries to snatch it back, but Ally is tiny and quick, evading her grab easily.

“Lauren, please, calm  _ down _ , you’re too angry and she’s obviously  _ loving _ that she made you lose it like that. Don’t give her that satisfaction.”

Lauren turns and kicks the wall so hard in sheer frustration that she ends up hurting herself and hopping around on one foot in agony.  Ally giggles but quickly disguises it with a cough when Lauren glares at her in betrayal.

They stay in that restroom for at least another ten minutes while Lauren struggles to calm down with Ally’s guidance, and it’s only after Ally gives her a thorough heavenly massage that she trusts herself enough to step outside without hunting Camila down.

Everyone is giggling behind her back and she hears more than one ‘highregui’ joke. She believes she deserves a fucking  _ award _ for not going serial killer on this stupid school. It’s a wonder that she makes it through the last class of the day without hurting anyone. The only thing that gets hurt is the paper in which Lauren drew Camila’s face on — she’d used the whole class stabbing tiny holes into Camila’s face as a way to safely release her aggression. 

It actually works so well that she’s somewhat level-headed when the bell indicates the end of the school day.  Or perhaps not  _ so _ level-headed, because the first thing she does when she gets home is plan sweet revenge.

There’s a rumor that Camila is throwing a party anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you lots to everyone who's been leaving kudos and comments, it means a lot to know people are enjoying this and willing to share that with us <3
> 
> what are y'all thinking after Lauren's reputation got hit with such a blow?


	8. the party

Camila scrolls through her tumblr with a bored sigh. Reception isn’t the best by the parking lot, where she’s currently sitting as she waits for Dinah and Normani, and it’s taking forever to load the posts.

A honk sounds and Camila lifts her head to see Dinah parking her car, reckless as ever, with a panic-stricken Normani by her side — also as per usual. She rolls her eyes and slides down from the wall where she had been for the past ten minutes.

“Morning, ladies,” she greets, leaning over Normani’s open window. “Ugh, will you ever stop with your Beyoncé obsession?”

Both of them gape at her and Camila laughs.

“Don’t you dare say such a thing ever again, Chancho, or I swear I’ll hunt you down and hit you with my rolled-up posters of the queen!”

“Kinky,” Camila teases, smiling with her tongue poking out from behind her teeth.

“You’re in an awfully good mood,” Normani says, closing the car door behind her. “Is Lauren dead? Did you make her yell at you already even though it’s only—” she makes a show of looking at her watch, “—8:18?”

“Don’t you mention that name to me so early in the morning,” Camila huffs, with a flip of her hair. “I was having a good day, Mani!”

Dinah snorts, grabbing the wrists of them both to start pulling them towards the school entrance. “Spill it, Walz.”

“My parents will be gone this weekend and they’re only coming back Sunday evening!” Camila announces, clapping her hands excitedly. “We can finally have a party, it’s been  _ so _ long!”

“Ohhh.” Dinah starts tapping her fingertips against each other, a wicked grin on her face. “Party party? On Saturday?”

“Or slumber party?”

“Mani, what are we? Ten?” Dinah elbows her with a glare. “No, it’s the first party of the year, it needs to be massive.”

“So what?” Normani asks, stopping by her locker to leave her cheerleading bag. “We invite the whole school? We come up with a theme?”

“No themes, that’s too much work and it’s already Wednesday, we don’t have that much time,” Camila says, shrugging. “And I don’t want an open invitation to the whole school either because the one time we did that, my house was such a mess that even the cleaners couldn’t bring it back to normal and I got grounded for a month.”

“Alright, so who are we inviting?” Dinah persists. “The cool kids?”

“Of course,” Normani states, as if it were obvious.

“Yes, but also, I’ll make sure to get some strategic invitations in place.”

Dinah lifts an eyebrow at Camila, but Normani just shakes her head.

“It’s election season, CheeChee.” Dinah rolls her eyes and starts walking away. “Every event is a political event!”

 

* * *

 

Camila finishes applying her makeup — nothing too extravagant, just eyeliner and mascara to draw attention to her eyes, and pink lipgloss because she likes the way it looks on her —, and sort of allows herself to drop to the floor, staring at her different shoe options and not feeling particularly in love with any of them. She ends up picking her pair of black Converse since she’s always been fond of seeing girls in dresses wearing Converse. Taking one last look at herself in the mirror, she decides she wants to wear her hair up, so she ties it in a high ponytail with a cute red bow, carefully placed strands framing her face.

The bell rings and Camila runs downstairs but it’s just Peter, the guy she pays to buy her alcohol.

“Hey, Camila.” He smiles, and gives her a quick side hug. “Just got the kegs out of the freezer so they should be on point by the time the party starts.”

Camila sends a quick grateful prayer to the gods above and thanks Peter for being so thoughtful.

He carries the three beer kegs inside, one at a time, and she tells him to leave one in the living room, one in the kitchen and to take the other to the backyard while she gets the rest of the stuff from his car. There are a few bottles of vodka, a couple of bottles of rum and tequila, and a lot of bottles of wine. It should be enough and if it wasn’t, she didn’t care. She can’t be expected to provide for fifty guests, not when she’d requested people brought their own alcohol if possible, or at least soft drinks.

Camila gives the guy his money and calls Dinah after he leaves, “Where are you? Party starts in less than two hours, I need help!”

_ “Will you just relax, Mila?” _ Dinah says, and of course Camila can hear Beyoncé playing in the background.  _ “All this stress ain’t good for you. I’m on my way and I got Mani with me already. Five minutes or so.” _

“You shouldn’t drive while speaking on the phone, DJ.”

Dinah hangs up with a sneer and Camila giggles. Grabbing one of the bottles of rum and a bottle of Fanta, she hides them in the only kitchen cupboard that can be locked.

(what? it’s her party. she has a right to save something for herself.)

There are loud bangs at the door and Camila runs again, not even bothering to check the peephole. Only Dinah would announce her arrival that obnoxiously.

Camila stops by the threshold, staring at her friends. They look gorgeous, like pop stars on the red carpet, and her heart skips a beat. “Wow.”

“Cute on the ‘no bra under dress’ front, Chancho,” Dinah comments, walking past her to leave a heavy bag on the living room table. “Go with Mani, there’s more stuff in the car.”

They’d brought snacks, lots and lots of ice and red cups, and Normani’s sound system. Camila’s house is perfect for parties since it’s the last in the neighbourhood, a bit isolated on top of the small hill, so even when music is loud, it’s never loud enough to disturb the local peace.

They busy themselves setting everything up, putting away easily breakable objects, making up an area to serve as the dance floor, leaving buckets of ice all over the place — some with drinks, others without —, spreading drinks and snacks in the living room and the outside area. Normani had turned on the lights of the pool and the backyard looks lovely, only illuminated by the pool and the golden hue of the garden lamps.

“Alright, I think we’re done,” Normani says, studying the foyer and the living room area. Some Hardwell beat is playing in the background, not loud enough to dance to but loud enough to set a mood. “I’m gonna go fix my make-up.”

The bell rings at 9 PM sharp and Dinah and Camila exchange a look, both smirking at the same time.

Let the party begin.

 

 

Camila is nursing her second glass of wine — and she actually has a glass because there is  _ no way _ she will drink wine out of a red cup — when Liam approaches her.

“Hey, babe.”

She winces at the pet name but doesn’t tell him off. He’s looking good, with jean shorts and a white button-up t-shirt. Camila isn’t opposed to some post-break-up sex to scratch some itches.  _ If _ it comes to that.

She’s not entirely sure that’s what she wants for tonight yet.

The conversation flows easily even if Camila does want to roll her eyes at how obvious he’s being with his flirting. They’d probably keep at it until they were both too drunk to remember how terrible an idea it is for them to hook up, but Dinah barges into the living room and grabs Camila’s wrist, dragging her to the front door.

“Dinah, what the hell?! I was busy!”

“You gotta see this.”

The front door has stayed open for almost two hours as no one wants to be bothered to go there every time the bell rings and so Camila has the privilege of seeing Lauren Jauregui, dressed in black skinny jeans and an unflatteringly large Bob Marley t-shirt, walking up the driveway with about fifteen people in tow.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Camila breathes out, jaw dropping.

“Girl, I wish I was,” Dinah mutters. If Camila didn’t know better, she’d say Dinah sounded impressed. She discards that idea when Dinah steps forward, getting in Lauren’s way. “Hey, Laurenza,” she says, sniffing the air around her like a dog. “You smell like a baby prostitute.”

Camila can’t help snickering at that even if it isn’t true at all. Lauren just glares and bumps Dinah’s shoulder so she can walk past and stand in front of Camila.

“Hello, Cabello,” she greets with a low, seductive voice. “We heard there was a party and we didn’t want to waste our Saturday night.”

“What the hell are you doing here, Jauregui?”

Lauren takes a step forward, completely disregarding Camila’s personal space. Dinah takes a sharp intake of breath next to her and the underdogs remain several steps behind them.

“You seemed so invested in exposing my party lifestyle…” Lauren eyes her up and down, a smirk never leaving her face, and Camila feels naked under her scrutiny. Her cute black dress, with the thick straps that leave most of her back uncovered, suddenly seems like it isn’t enough, or like it is too much. “I thought you’d like to see it firsthand.”

“Leave,” she growls, narrowing her eyes as she leans forward and lifts her chin up in what she hopes is a threatening exhibition. Lauren is wearing heels so her height advantage is bigger than usual.

Lauren towers over Camila and she’s so close now that Camila can feel her body heat radiating off of her. For some reason, it makes Camila shiver.

“No,” Lauren says, lips hovering near Camila’s left ear. Then she moves past her and inside the house, not looking back.

At that, the rest of her group just scrambles away, most heading towards the backyard, but a few following after Lauren like the loyal dogs they are.

Camila doesn’t know how to react. All she can do is feel her heart hammering inside her chest until Dinah pulls her closer by her waist. She melts under her friend’s care and shifts so she can rest her forehead at the base of Dinah’s neck.

“Well, at least they brought more beers,” Dinah jokes, before softening her stance. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Camila breathes out. She faces Dinah, trying to hide the way her hands are trembling. “Yeah, she just—

“That tension could be cut even by a blunt knife, Mila,” Dinah says, with the knowing tone she gets when she acts all grown-up. She squeezes her lightly. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Camila sighs, placing a peck on Dinah’s naked shoulder. “She always catches me off-guard. I hate it.”

“Damn, maybe that gossip twitter knows what’s up, eh?” Camila punches her arm and Dinah cackles. “But seriously, do you want me to kick her ass?”

“I can handle it, China, don’t worry.” She smiles and hugs Dinah. “Plus, everyone’s drunk already, who cares if she’s here?”

“I’m okay if you’re okay.” Dinah kisses the top of her head and Camila hums, feeling loved.

“I’m good.” Camila holds her hand and winks at her. “Let’s go find you a one-night-stand, pretty lady.”

“Now we’re talking.”

 

 

The rest of the night goes like this:

Camila doesn’t want to, but she can’t avoid paying attention to what Lauren is doing. Lauren is in her house, in her private familiar space, and god only knows what she may be plotting. Camila determines she’ll get three strikes before she throws her out.

 

 

Strike one:

For a while, Lauren only drinks and goes from one group to the other, socializing with different people. Camila watches her from the shadows and yes, she realizes that sounds creepy, but she’ll be damned if she lets Lauren ruin her party.

Then, Camila notices, Lauren reaches a tipsy state where she stops caring about everything and everyone and she just… lets go.

Apparently, for Lauren letting go means dancing like the world is ending.

She’s sandwiched between Hernandez and Shaun Ross and she has no shame. She drops to the floor and comes back up slowly, grinding on Shaun who’s holding on to her by her waist. Hernandez leaves — probably to get more drinks — and that’s when Lauren spots Camila studying her. Camila doesn’t avert her eyes. She’s buzzed too, and in all honesty, she just wants Lauren to know she’s being watched. Maybe that will keep her in check.

It doesn’t.

Lauren brings both hands to her hair and looks Camila up and down, her movements languid and provocative.

Camila dismisses the sudden wave of heat coursing through her body as the alcohol talking and remains where she is, leaning against the wall, her arms crossed.

Lauren keeps staring at her, unrelenting. She licks her lips and then parts them only a fraction and Camila focuses on them, swallows as she notes how red and full they are, before snapping out of it and shifting her attention to Lauren’s body.

Awful idea. She’s turned now, front pressed to Shaun’s, and the bitch is actually pulling her oversized Bob Marley t-shirt upwards, leaving her generous backside on display. Camila has never hated Cuban genes more than she does right this moment.

The song is ending — it’s some old hit Camila doesn’t recognize — and Lauren glances back, her eyes meeting Camila’s once again. She winks, and as the song is fading into a new one, she pecks Shaun Ross on the lips, slow and lingering, her hand coming up to caress his cheek tenderly.

Camila follows the kiss the entire time: how Lauren’s fingers twitch on Shaun’s face, the way her eyelids lower as if she’s surrendering, how she settles her mouth with Shaun’s bottom lip perfectly in its center. It makes Camila’s lungs burn and burn and burn, as if they’d forgotten how to breathe.

Clenching her fists, Camila uses them as impulse to push herself off the wall and head towards the kitchen. She needs a strong drink to survive the night until she gets to kick Lauren out.

 

 

Strike two:

It’s almost 1 AM and Camila can guarantee that there isn’t a single sober person in the vicinity. If she were sober herself, she’d worry about everyone who’s going to go home in a car driven by a drunken soul, but she’s beyond that at the moment.

No, at the moment she’s busy enjoying the body shots game that sparked around the living room table, Normani next to her as they both laugh at Dinah sucking vodka from in between some nerd’s shoulder blades. They aren’t playing — Camila never does and Normani has her days — but of course Dinah always participates in every single game people can come up with, from beer pong to spin the bottle.

The boy shivers as Dinah shamelessly licks his back free of vodka and the crowd goes wild, chanting  _ ‘shots shots shots’ _ . Dinah bows as the nerd stands up straight to put his shirt back on and then, to Camila’s absolute despair, she points to Lauren.

“Lauser!” she shouts, index finger wobbly with alcohol. “Gimme your belly-button!”

Lauren smirks and approaches Dinah, whispering something in her ear that makes Dinah cackle like a lunatic and open a path through the crowd to go somewhere Camila can’t see as Lauren starts taking off her shoes.

Camila and Normani exchange a look, both acutely aware that whatever is about to happen can’t be good, and then Beyoncé’s  _ Naughty Girl _ starts playing, Lauren climbs on the table, and Dinah returns to her rightful place at the head, Camila and Normani right behind her.

Normani’s eyes have never been this widened in her life, Camila is sure of that. Lauren is dancing  _ really _ suggestively, all hips and hands sliding down her body, and Camila thinks her chest is no longer enough to contain her pounding heart.

The boys are trying not to come in their pants, the girls are pretending  _ not _ to be aroused, and Lauren is making eye contact with  _ her _ as she moves. Sometimes she glances at Dinah because the dance is supposed to be for her but her gaze is firmly trained on Camila most of the time, and Camila doesn’t quite know what to do with herself.

She’s tipsy, hot, bothered and annoyed, and a girl — an extremely attractive girl, her alcohol-ridden brain can admit to that — is dancing on top of a table with her in mind.

Lauren starts rolling her hips and lifting her shirt up and Camila cannot believe she’s about to take her t-shirt off, she refuses to believe that, and tries to stick to her little fantasy world where Lauren is just teasing, but the t-shirt goes up and up and up some more and suddenly it hits Camila square on the face, and Camila is wrapped in a scent of sweat, body lotion and something else that she presumes is just  _ Lauren _ .

She hurls the t-shirt to the floor, flustered, in time to see that Lauren is wearing a white crop top and had not just decided to show her bra to half the school. She lies down in front of Dinah and squeals when someone pours tequila in her belly-button.

Dinah leans down and Lauren’s eyes lock with Camila’s again. She bites her bottom lip and as Dinah starts drinking the shot, Lauren arches her back and  _ whimpers _ .

Camila closes her eyes, exhales, and gets the hell out of there.

 

 

The third strike:

Camila is sitting on the couch when she sees Lauren coming in from outside and walking towards the kitchen, a joint stuck between her fingers. She jumps out of her seat and follows after her,

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Jauregui?”

Lauren startles. She’d been alone in the kitchen and didn’t hear Camila arrive.

“I don’t know?” she replies, genuinely confused, as she opens the fridge and grabs a half-full bottle of Coke. “You tell me.”

“How dare you come into my house and smoke inside? Smoke  _ that _ ?” Camila is fuming.

“Oh.” Lauren looks from Camila to her joint, and then takes a long drag, blowing the smoke in Camila’s face in a leisurely manner. “It’s fun.” She extends the joint to Camila. “Wanna try?”

Camila grabs the joint and flings it to the sink. Lauren gasps, “Hey! I’d just started that!”

“I want you out of my house, Jauregui. Now.”

Lauren gets all up in Camila’s personal space. It seems to be her new go-to strategy. She smirks. “Or what, Bows?”

She’s so close Camila can feel the little puffs of air she’s exhaling hitting her face, she can smell the vodka and the weed on her breath. Camila narrows her eyes, glaring at Lauren, but Lauren doesn’t see that because she’s focused on her lips.

And that’s what makes Camila snap.

She surges forward and she’s kissing Lauren before she has time to even consider what she’s doing. She blames the kiss on the alcohol, thinks anger and spite are good enough motivation for kissing someone you’re supposed to hate. Her hands move of their own volition and the right holds onto Lauren’s jaw while the left grips the hair at the back of her head. She’s so sure Lauren is going to push her off, that she’s going to jump backwards and yell at her, but Lauren does the opposite. Lauren’s arms wrap around her waist, nails digging deep into her naked back, and Camila finds herself pushed against the kitchen counter, every inch of her front body touching Lauren’s.

Camila would rather die than admit this, but Lauren  _ is _ a good kisser. There’s just the right amount of tongue, she doesn’t open her mouth too wide, and her lips are the softest thing Camila’s ever tasted.

“Not here,” Camila whispers, all ragged breaths and dilated pupils, when she breaks the kiss and can’t help but crave for more. She’s still holding on to Lauren’s face, their foreheads touching. “Upstairs. First door on the left. Two minutes.”

She disentangles herself from Lauren’s arms and practically flees the kitchen.

It takes her a minute to remember where she’d hidden the key to her room, even though it’s taped behind the painting on the hallway as it always is whenever she throws a party. There’s no way she’d ever allow someone else to have sex in her room.

Camila unlocks the door and removes her Converse. She moves around the room, turning on the lamps of her nightstands and the lamp on her desk, and closing the window and the curtains. She starts pacing the space in front of her bed, arms crossed as if she’s hugging herself.

Truth is she has no idea what she’s doing.

But it’s too late to figure that out because Lauren is in front of her, breathless in the middle of the room, door closed behind her. Camila runs to lock it, leaving the key in the hole. She turns, leaning against the door.

“You are really here,” she says, more to herself than anything else. In the back of her mind, she wasn’t sure Lauren would follow her. Two minutes is a long time when you’re drunk.

Lauren doesn’t hear her, she’s looking around the room like a curious child. “A lava lamp, Cabello? Cute.”

“Is that a problem, Jauregui?” she asks, tilting one eyebrow up. “I mean, you came all the way up here, you can’t possibly be detained by a lava lamp now, can you?”

“Bitch, please,” Lauren scoffs, lamp all but forgotten. “Like you didn’t want me to come when you kissed me like that.”

“Doesn’t matter what I wanted,” Camila taunts, hands behind her back and torso leaning forward conspiratorially. “Can’t believe Lauren ‘Rebel’ Jauregui ran after  _ me _ on the promise of a little kissing.”

“God, do you ever shut the fuck  _ up _ ?” Lauren asks, body shaking with exasperation.

Camila laughs, that laugh that comes out like an incredulous breath that’s escaped, and Lauren breaks the distance between them with a couple of decisive strides.

And thus they’re kissing again, hungrier and more reckless than before. Camila is obsessed with Lauren’s hair and she tugs and pulls, enjoying how Lauren sets the rhythm of the kisses according to her ministrations.

Lauren is daring, her hands roaming everywhere, even to places Camila didn't expect her to explore so quickly. It makes Camila's breath catch and her heart does quick jumps whenever Lauren grazes the inside of her underwear with her fingertips.

She bites Camila's chin, licks her jaw until she reaches her ear and just breathes, the hot air jolting electricity through all of Camila's body. Gripping the hem of Camila's dress, Lauren moves her head back, staring Camila straight in the eyes with a questioning look.

Camila finds it interesting that she would ask for permission, files it away for sober consideration at a later time — maybe never.

"Your clothes need to come off too."

Lauren smirks. “Deal.”

Camila watches as Lauren unzips her jeans and pulls them down, kicking them away, before she clutches her own dress and pulls it over her head.

Lauren just stares at her, breath caught in her throat, and Camila is reminded that she’s not wearing a bra. She blushes, and is vexed that she’s blushing, so she covers her chest by crossing her arms. Glaring at Lauren, she snaps, “What?”

“Whoa,” Lauren lets out, green eyes bright and twinkling. “C’mere.”

She kisses Camila gently and Camila wraps her arms around her neck, digging her nails in Lauren’s scalp and biting her bottom lip, “Why are you going all soft on me, Jauregui?”

Lauren chuckles at that and pinches her nipples, making Camila whine. She plays with both, busies both hands by squeezing and twisting them between her thumbs and her forefingers and then filling her hands with Camila’s small breasts.

She makes these pleased little sounds that echo inside Camila’s mouth as they kiss and Camila would be lying if she said that wasn’t one of the hottest things she’d heard in her life.

Lucky for her, she’s all for lying and subverting the truth.

“Off, off,” Camila orders, fingertips under Lauren’s crop top. Lauren helps, throwing it messily behind her, and soon they’re facing each other, clad only in their underwear. One corner of Camila's lips curls up, tongue between her teeth.

Lauren is hot, at least.

She tucks her index finger in the middle of Lauren’s black bra and peers at her from under her eyelashes. Lauren seems like she's in a haze, eyes not leaving her body. 

“What's with all the staring, Jauregui?” she taunts, pursing her lips. "One might think you like what you're seeing."

Lauren scoffs, snapping out of it, and surprises her by turning her around and pinning her against the door, mouth settling by her ear. “Wouldn’t you enjoy that?” Lauren kisses Camila’s naked neck, steals tiny bites on her shoulders, and Camila’s breathing becomes more hoarse and desperate. “Too bad it isn’t true.”

Camila bumps her with her ass, annoyed.

Lauren just laughs and slides her hand down Camila’s body, slow and tantalizing, until she reaches her core. She plays with the edge of Camila’s panties, threatening to touch her center without ever doing so.

Camila groans and rolls her hips backwards, grinding against Lauren, one hand clutching Lauren’s hair forcefully, “Take them off.”

“You’re a dirty little thing, aren’t you?” Lauren asks against her pulse point.

“Maybe I am.” Camila shivers, but stares defiantly at Lauren nonetheless. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Lauren sucks on her earlobe and her thumbs find their way to the elastic of Camila’s underwear. She dawdles, takes forever to pull them down, bites every inch of Camila’s right leg and scratches the whole length of the left before she discards the remaining piece of clothing to the side. She grabs Camila’s ass as she comes back up, gives it a good squeeze before holding on to her hips and clashing her pelvis to Camila’s ass with a low moan. “Fuck, your ass is out of this world.”

Camila can’t believe that Lauren is hell-bent on being the bane of her existence even when they’re hooking up. She is too horny for this so she grabs one of Lauren’s hands and brings it to her folds. Lauren rubs her for a minute, using two fingers, and Camila moves against her hand to try and find the exact amount of pressure and speed she needs.

Lauren is good at this — like, she’s-done-this-before  _ really _ good at this —, but she does seem intent on driving Camila crazy. She halts her movements and brings her fingers to her mouth, licking them dry as Camila watches, getting more turned on by the second.

“Gotta give it to you, Bows,” Lauren says, returning her hand to where Camila wants it. “You taste real good.”

“For the love of god, Jauregui,” Camila pants, trying to shift so they’re front to front again. Lauren doesn’t let her. “Will you just  _ fuck _ me already?”

“As you wish.”

Camila rolls her eyes at Lauren’s sarcasm because who has time for  _ The Princess Bride _ references in the middle of sex, but then Lauren is inside her, using two fingers from behind, without any warning whatsoever. Her other hand slides through Camila’s stomach to draw quick circles around her clitoris, and Camila forgets her name.

Lauren keeps going, her pace unsteady. Sometimes she goes fast and Camila is almost there, but then she stalls, rubs her softly as if she’s bringing her down rather than taking her over the edge, and Camila honestly just wants to fall down to the floor because her legs can’t take it much longer.

“P-please,” she hears herself say, all shame and self-control abandoned, “I can’t.”

She feels Lauren smile against her shoulder before she bites the spot where her neck meets her shoulder, hard. Camila headbutts her in retaliation but Lauren disregards it, pressing her fingers somewhere inside that makes Camila go blind, and her middle finger moves faster and lighter over her clitoris until Camila just… explodes.

She stops breathing, she stops making any sounds, she feels like all her energy is spreading from her core to the ends of her body and she crashes against Lauren, legs weak and useless.

Lauren holds her up, flicks her clit one last time and pulls out the fingers she has inside, cleaning them on her thigh so she can place the now free hand on the door to support them both. She keeps nibbling her behind her ear and Camila is uncomfortable with the attention, it makes her want to headbutt Lauren again. She fights the urge by focusing on her breathing instead, and it’s due to that that it takes her a while to understand what’s happening.

Lauren is masturbating, her right hand squeezed between her own folds and Camila’s ass. At first the concept is abhorrent to her but as she feels Lauren’s little wheezes down her neck, she concludes that Lauren working herself off by using her as a catalyst is, in fact, a very enticing concept. She starts rolling her hips back, one hand pressed to the door, the other gripping Lauren’s ass roughly to pull her closer.

“Fuck, Camila,  _ yes _ ,” Lauren moans, and Camila is oddly satisfied that  _ she _ ’s the reason Lauren is in this state. Who knew she had the power to bring Lauren to her knees, not only figuratively, but now literally too. Just like that, she’s aroused all over again.

She feels Lauren building up and grins when she orgasms with a whimper, mouth looking for Camila’s so they share a sloppy kiss, both sweaty and exhausted.

They stay in that position for several moments until their breathing becomes regular again.

Then, of course, their universe shifts back to its axis.

“Shit,” Lauren mutters, tripping on her own feet as she steps back.

Camila is left by the door, cold and naked. She wants to turn but she’s feeling awfully exposed so she brings her fists to her chest instead.

“Here,” Lauren says, not without kindness, handing her the tossed dress.

Camila covers her front and faces Lauren. There’s a lightheadedness to her demeanor that tells her she’s not sober, not yet, probably not for a while. Neither of them are, and for some reason that adds to Camila’s annoyance. “We don’t talk about this.  _ Ever _ .”

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock,” Lauren deadpans, putting her jeans on. “It’s not like I want anyone to know I’ve stooped this low.”

“Give me a break, Jauregui,” Camila harrumphs, stepping closer. “You enjoyed every second of it and you know it.”

“Whatever, Cabello,” Lauren says, eyes darting around the room trying to spot her clothes. “Vodka makes me horny and you’re too fucking easy to fire up. It wasn’t even a challenge.”

“Oh, and it’s a coincidence that you go above and beyond to rile me up then?” Camila snarls,  picking up a blue top from the floor by her bed and shoving it at Lauren, unlocking the door afterwards. “Get the hell out of my house, Jauregui!”

“It will be my pleasure,” Lauren shoots back, walking past her while still struggling with the top.

Lauren storms out and Camila sighs in relief, slamming the door shut.

Crawling inside her bed without bothering to find sleepwear, she sends a quick text to the Clique’s group chat asking the girls to kick everyone out.

She cannot believe she’d just had sex with Lauren fucking Jauregui. The worst part is she’d kissed a few girls before but she’d never gotten past that and she’d never thought this is how losing her girl-sex virginity would go. Not to mention she’s never had sex with anyone who  _ isn’t _ Liam.

Like, what the actual fuck. She’s never drinking again.

And alcohol better do its job and allow her to have forgotten everything by morning.


	9. vandalized posters

Lauren wakes up to the sound of piano keys being abused by someone’s poor attempt at playing them — that someone is doubtlessly her little brother, Chris, whose newfound obsession is the piano, even though history has proven that he doesn’t have a single musical bone in his entire body.

She whimpers as she feels the familiar sensation of an icicle piercing through her temple and the rotten taste in her mouth. She hasn’t been hungover in a long fucking while and she had almost forgotten how _not worth it_ , it is.

However, this time might just have been worth it, and she smirks as she remembers Camila’s stormy face as she spent the entirety of the night glaring death at Lauren rather than enjoying her own party. That memory alone is nearly enough to cure Lauren’s hangover. _Nearly._

She hides under the duvet from the relentless sunlight falling through her window for about half an hour, feeling miserable until she decides to roll her weary body out of bed. Experience has taught her that there’s no better cure for a raging hangover than a warm shower, a good omelette and a couple of painkillers.

She stumbles ungracefully to her feet and has to take a moment to find her balance. Once she does, she walks up to her full body mirror, scratching at her hair lazily. She stops and stares, getting a proper look at herself. It’s not the fact that she looks like someone who died last night that alarms her — she’s used to that look —, but the unfamiliar blue top she’s wearing.

She blinks and looks down at the top. She knows she wasn’t wearing this when she went out last night and she definitely doesn’t own it. It’s too little, stretching tight over her chest. She flops back down on her bed, pushing her hair out of her face, and frowning as she tries to recall memories from last night.

Ever so slowly, they return to her.  A steady stream of drinks. Camila’s pissed off face. Dancing, grinding, touching. Playfully making out with Shaun. Camila’s pissed off face. Dancing on top of a table to Beyoncé. Dinah cheering her on. Camila’s pissed off face. Sucking on a joint. Camila’s pissed off face. Blowing the smoke in said pissed off face. Lauren pushing into Camila’s face. Camila pushing back,  teeth knocking and lips clashing—

Lauren sits up so fast that her world spins and her vision goes black for a few seconds. She falls back onto the bed, eyes wide with horror as her mind is assaulted by flashes of images from last night:

_Lips locking, caressing tongues, pitch black soft hair, skin, hands, moans._

As realization dawns on her like an ice-cold bath, the pissed off face of Camila imprinted in Lauren’s mind is quickly wiped away by Camila’s flushed face, dark eyes and swollen lips.

Lauren’s first instinct is to _deny, deny, deny_ , muttering a mantra of ‘no’ under her breath, but it does nothing to chase away the steady stream of images that floods her mind. It becomes harder to cling to denial when her memory rapidly clears up and what occurred last night is crystal clear.

She’d slept with _Camila Cabello_.

When the image and sound of Camila arching into her as she reaches climax enters Lauren’s mind, she grabs her pillow, buries her face deep into it and _screams_.

 

 

When Monday morning rolls around, Lauren keeps her gaze to the ground, trying her hardest to be invisible — which is basically useless after the debacle she sparked by crashing Camila’s party.

She can feel countless eyes following her every move and the murmurs she leaves in her wake. Under normal circumstances, she’d barely notice them or at least brush them off easily. But the thing is, today she isn’t under normal circumstances, so every whisper makes her heart jump into her throat.

She doesn’t remember the last time she felt like clawing out of her skin. She doesn’t dare look anyone in the eye in fear that they might _know_ what happened at the party.

She used the entirety of Sunday on two things exactly: stressing and freaking out. She’d have a mini heart attack every time her phone vibrated with a notification. There were plenty of pictures of her night — many of them unflattering — but so far, none of them were what she feared the most. She’s been refreshing @sipthegreentea’s timeline like crazy, expecting a pinned tweet with the God awful caption #camren and an incriminating photo.

So far, no one seems to know.

She makes it to her locker and quickly throws in her bag, pulling out the books she needs for her first classes.

“Lauren!”

The voice is loud and close behind her. She startles with a yelp, her books dropping to the floor. She spins around, her heart rattling in her ribcage, and comes face to face with a grinning Dinah — who is alone, Lauren notices immediately with some sense of relief.

Dinah glances at the dropped books with a raised brow and does nothing to help Lauren as she scrambles to gather them. “What’s wrong with you?”

“N-Nothing,” Lauren stutters and straightens up. “Bye,”  she says and gives Dinah a curt nod, attempting to make a quick escape.

Dinah clamps a hand down on her shoulder before she can get away. “Wait a minute! What’s the rush?”

Lauren swallows thickly and turns around. “Um. Nothing. Just gotta go to class.”

“Class starts in 15 minutes,” Dinah points out and studies her, causing Lauren to squirm.

“You look like shit,” she states bluntly. “Rough night?”

Lauren self-consciously runs her hand through her hair and smiles stiffly. She couldn’t sleep because every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was Camila with pink cheeks, hiding her naked chest under her arms, looking soft and vulnerable. And now the image is in her head again. _Fuck_.

“Yeah… rough night.”

Dinah rolls her eyes and grins. “ _Anyways_ , you were one _naughty girl_ the other night.”

“W-What?” Lauren stammers as her heart skips a beat and she stares wide-eyed at Dinah. She’d convinced herself that Camila would keep it to herself, but of course she told Dinah, her best friend.

Lauren feels herself freaking out on the inside.

Dinah _knows_.

“I like the way you party, girl!” Dinah says, and laughs as she shoves a bag into Lauren’s hand, “You went _hard_ the other night. Thought you might want this back.”

Lauren is confused until she looks into the bag and sees her Bob Marley shirt — the one she pulled off when she’d been drunkenly dancing on top of a table to Beyoncé. She looks at Dinah, who’s grinning at her, and relief floods her system. Dinah _doesn’t_ know.

 _Thank God_.

“Thanks.”

Dinah smirks and leans in close, pushing into Lauren’s personal space as she whispers conspiratorially, “Between you and me, I wouldn’t mind seeing you at every party. But don’t tell Mila I said that.” She winks, punches Lauren playfully in the shoulder and struts off.

Lauren leans back against the locker, letting her head fall back as she closes her eyes and lets out a long-suffering sigh.

 

 

Lauren uses all her energy on avoiding Camila, promptly walking in the opposite direction at the slightest glimpse of her. The more it appears that nobody actually knows, the more she starts to calm down, but she still struggles to concentrate in classes. Her thoughts are scattered, her mind in turmoil and her feelings messy.

On one hand, she’s angry at herself for letting it happen. Before the summer, she had promised herself she would no longer engage in meaningless hook-ups.  And for almost six months, she'd been able to keep that promise, but all it had taken was a ‘little’ alcohol and Camila freakin’ Cabello to break it into tiny pieces.

On the other hand, she’s angry at Camila for initiating it. She was supposed to be this uptight, perfect little girl who thought she was above drunken hook-ups — how _dare_ she ruin Lauren’s judgmental views on her. Goddamnit.  

The biggest surprise of it all is that Camila is into girls. Lauren would honestly never have thought that. She looks like someone who’s into some boring, straight vanilla sex — missionary position only — but apparently the things Lauren had been wrong about are plentiful.

 _Whatever_. It happened and she isn’t going to think about it ever again. She wasn’t in her right mind and she’ll erase it from her memory. It’ll _never_ happen again.

“...she probably got brain damage from all that alcohol the other night.” Ian’s dry tone pulls Lauren out of her thoughts and she looks up at her friends around the lunch table, who are all staring at her.

She blinks. “What?” she asks defensively.

“You’ve been glaring holes into your salad for the last five minutes,” Shaun says around the juice straw in his mouth. “What did it ever do to you other than look appetizing? Murder your whole family?”

“Haha,” Lauren mutters sarcastically, and stabs her fork aggressively into her salad.

“You okay?” Ally asks, putting a hand on her arm. “You’ve been acting off all day.”

“No, I haven’t!” Lauren says, a little too defensively to be convincing. She swallows too quickly and nearly chokes. She splutters and coughs, and Ally smacks her so hard on the back it makes Lauren wonder if she’s trying to be helpful or physically bruise her.

“I’m fine! I’m fine!” Lauren coughs to stop Ally’s assault.

“You sure?” Christie asks gently and looks at her with her wide, eternally concerned eyes.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Lauren snaps, and Christie lowers her gaze.

“Whoa,” Shaun interjects. “Calm down. Seriously, what’s _up_ with you today?”

Lauren grits her teeth and takes a deep breath. “Nothing.”

“Did something happen at the party?”

Lauren’s gaze snaps up to Ally, her heart racing. “What do you mean?”

Ally raises a brow. “You left very suddenly.”

Lauren knows she has to get her shit together before her friends start piecing the pieces together. She forces a smile and shakes her head.

“Yeah, sorry, I just felt a bit ill, as I said,” she says. “I’m tired today. I think I’m coming down with something.”

They appear to believe her as they resume chatting about the funny things that happened at the party and she breathes a sigh of relief. She attempts to listen and weigh in, but her mind is elsewhere. She finds herself looking towards the Clique’s table before she can stop herself.

Camila is laughing prettily at something Normani is showing her on her phone. She looks carefree and that, along with the fact that she doesn’t glance Lauren’s way even once, fills Lauren with an irrational sense of irritation.

She turns her attention back on the conversation at the table, where they’re giggling at a video of Lauren grinding up on some random piece of furniture.

 _Jesus Christ_ , she’s never drinking again.

 

 

For the next few days, Lauren avoids Camila like the plague and she’s pretty sure it’s mutual. There’s no more sabotaging of each other’s presidential campaign, no more petty twitter fights and snarky side comments. _Nothing_.

Lauren hates to admit that she feels off balance, like she’s missing her opposing force. Some part of her is waiting for Camila to pick a fight — on twitter or in person — so that things can go back to normal.

Of course the whole school has noticed too as they mourn the loss of their daily intake of drama and gossip — Lauren suspects they’ve gotten addicted and are suffering from withdrawal.

She almost finds joy in how the gossip twitter moans about the lack of drama and how boring and ‘vanilla’ her and Camila have gotten, right up until the damn thing stirs up manufactured drama and rumors to keep their gossip-hungry followers sated.

Lauren would be happy if the rumors weren’t related to her, but of course every single one of them is speculating about what transpired at the party to make them start ignoring each other’s existence. If they only knew how close they were with their #camrentheories.

“What’s up?” Lauren asks as she joins Shaun and Ally in the library where they’re laughing over something on their phone. They rush to hide it away when they see her.

Ally coughs. “Um, nothing,” she says, and if she didn’t look unconvincing before, she certainly does when she fails to stifle her giggle.

Lauren narrows her eyes suspiciously and drops heavily into the soft cushion next to Shaun.

“Seriously, _what_ were you just looking at?”

Shaun and Ally share a conspiratorial glance. “Ok, but promise to keep your cool. I don’t need Miss Vergara to throw us out again because you are cussing up a storm.”

Lauren doesn’t like where this is headed, but she nods her consent nonetheless. Shaun pulls up his phone and turns his screen towards Lauren.

Along with the tweet is posted a gif of Lauren dancing sensually, licking across her lips while she stares at Camila across the room. Lauren doesn’t know if she should be impressed that someone went through the trouble of not only recording her but _giffing_ the fucking thing, or angry that they deliberately caught her at a moment that could easily be misunderstood. She settles on being annoyed at her friends for finding it funny.

“Take a deep breath,” Ally says nervously when Lauren glares at them, and Shaun subtly scoots away.

“I don’t wanna take a damn breath!” Lauren scrolls down the gossip twitter only to find more stupid tweets that hit a little too close to the truth to be comfortable. “Look at this shit! Who the fuck is behind this? Ian is good with computers, right?”

Shaun eyes her warily. “Right.”

Lauren looks at him intently. “Can he find out who’s behind this twitter? I just wanna talk.”

“You had a crazy look in your eyes as you said that,” Ally says with a laugh, and Shaun carefully pulls his phone out of Lauren’s tight grip. “Whoever it is, they’re bored. _Everyone_ is bored. You’ve been at each other’s throats for weeks and suddenly it stops overnight. It’s like, rain one day and dying of thirst the next.”

Lauren stares blankly at Ally, but before she can comment on that ridiculous comparison, Shaun chimes in, “Everyone is so bored that they’ve begun vandalizing your posters just to stir up shit.”

Lauren blinks. “Someone has been vandalizing my posters?”

Ally and Shaun exchange a look. “Yeah, we talked about this at the lockers earlier? Weren’t you listening?”

She honestly hasn’t been listening to anything they’ve been saying all day, too busy stressing and freaking out about the return of the maddening #camren fantasies.

“She went and vandalized my posters? That _malparida de mierda_ ,” Lauren says, but she doesn’t sound angry; on the contrary, her lips are curling up in an almost smile. She doesn’t miss the way Ally and Shaun exchange another look. They really love doing that lately.

“I don’t think it was her,” Ally says. “Her posters have been vandalized too. How haven’t you noticed? She hasn’t spoken out against it either, which honestly only adds to the mystery and leaves plenty of room for people to speculate.”

Lauren frowns. “People did it just for the sake of drama?”

Shaun rolls his eyes hard. “That’s literally what I told you five seconds ago.”

Lauren isn’t listening to him this time either, she’s busy coming to the realization that she has to do something before everyone’s apparent withdrawal runs out of control. She has to restore the balance of this whole school and squash the speculations before someone realizes they’re onto something.

“Y’all are bored? _Fine_ ,” Lauren huffs and pulls out her phone, fingers flying over the screen as she types out a quick tweet.

“What are you doing?” Ally asks curiously as both her and Shaun try to peek over her shoulder.

She hits tweet and rises to her feet.

“Keeping you all entertained,” she says with a smirk, and walks out.

**Can y’all believe that @camilacabello97 messed with my posters and her own so she wouldn’t be suspected? A new level of pettiness #meangirl**

**the baseless acusations get old real quick @LaurenJauregui!**

**@camilacabello97 *accusations :) it’s a wonder you made it into AP Lit #2ndGradeGrammar**

The bell rings signalling the sweet end of another school day and Lauren saunters down the hall through the stream of students. There are whispers in her wake, everyone gossiping about the latest twitter drama, hungrily eating it up like they’ve been starved for ages.

Lauren catches sight of Camila in the halls and as they lock eyes, Camila shoots her a withering glare. Lauren turns away and walks out into the sunlight, smiling as she slips on a pair of shades.

The natural order of things has been restored.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for all the kudos and comments, guys! keep them coming coz they make us happy <3


	10. first soccer match of the year

“Checkmate.”

Camila looks up and sees Harold’s blue eyes shining, his lips pursed in his typical smile that is never wide and never shows his teeth. He’s always reminded her of a night bird, quiet and watchful. She smiles back.

“Well, congratulations.” She knocks down her own king. “At least I lasted over half an hour this time.”

“You are getting better, Camila,” he says, carefully putting the white pieces inside a blue velvet bag. “You were a disaster when you first asked me to teach you how to play.”

She starts dropping the black pieces in the green bag. “I should’ve practiced in the summer. At this rate, we’ll graduate before I win a game against you.”

“I don’t think you can win against me,” he says, placing everything in the box with methodical gestures. Camila shakes her head, not taking offense. Harold is seldom conceited, just sincere. “I do believe you can improve enough to become a challenge.”

She beams at him, moving around the picnic table to help him up. The boy has a limp and Camila still doesn’t know the story behind it. They don’t talk much.

“Same time next week?” he asks, fixing his old-fashioned glasses, the chess box fitted nicely under his arm.

“Same place.” She squeezes his elbow. “Bye, Harold. Thank you.”

Camila starts crossing the playground, headed for the school building, but she’s intercepted halfway there.

“Are you that threatened by me that you’re spending time with the underdogs now?”

Camila jumps, clutching her heart. Unsurprisingly, Lauren is laughing at her.

“What the hell, Jauregui?!” She glues both hands to the strap of her bag to avoid shoving the other girl. She doesn’t want to touch her. “Are you following me? Can’t I go a peaceful day in this school without having to see you?”

“I ask myself the same question every day,” Lauren confides, her tone too dry for Camila to take it as anything other than a taunt. “Didn’t expect to see you trying to buy people’s votes, Cabello. I’m flattered.”

“I don’t need to buy people’s votes, Jauregui.” She searches the contents of her bag and pulls out a flyer for her campaign. “Here, educate yourself.”

“I’ve read this already. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right?” Camila coughs at that, embarrassed, but Lauren just walks beside her, concentrated on the flyer. “It’s a shame you’re such a despicable person, makes it hard to believe you have ‘the students’ interests at heart’.”

Camila rolls her eyes. “You don’t know me at all—“

“Nor do I want to,” Lauren interrupts.

“—and to answer your initial question,” Camila carries on, glaring at her, “Harold has been teaching me how to play chess since last year. Who he votes for doesn’t matter to me.”

“Why would you want to learn how to play chess?”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” Lauren replies, too quickly. Camila stares at her, one eyebrow arching up. “I was just curious. My dad taught me how to play when I was a kid.”

“What an uplifting childhood story,” Camila sneers, snatching the flyer from her hands so as not to waste resources. “Can you crawl back to the hipster hell you popped out from? I have things to do, people to see.”

“Yeah, I heard you were creating a song for the drama kids. Is that so you can have nice background music for the campaign video we have to present in homeroom next week?” Lauren cackles. “Desperate much, Bows?”

It always throws her off when Lauren uses that nickname on her, and it takes some effort for Camila not to check if her bow tie and the bow she’s wearing on her head today are in the right place. She will not give Lauren the satisfaction. “You’re lucky your little soccer match is the day after tomorrow or you’d be dead right now,” she growls, speeding so she can leave Lauren behind. She doesn’t deserve this.

“Must hurt to see your best friend protecting me,” Lauren shouts after her. Camila just walks faster.

_ God _ .

Lauren Jauregui is so fucking annoying.

 

* * *

 

Camila rides her bike to school because she doesn’t want to go through the pain of parking her car during a soccer match day. She doesn’t care for soccer, or any sports in general, but since her social circle heavily relies on them, she’s grown used to handling sporting events.

She locks the bike to the only space left in the bike rack and shows her ticket at the school’s entrance, before moving towards the soccer field, phone in hand so she can text Liam and ask him about his whereabouts. He calls before she can finish her text.

“Hey.”

_ “Hi, babe.” _ Camila rolls her eyes. She really needs to tell him to tone it down with the pet names. They’re not dating anymore.  _ “We’re on the third row from the bottom, right side bleachers, by the second stairs.” _

“Finally learned how to be specific, Liam?” she teases, approaching the field with a frown. There are too many people everywhere. “Color me impressed.”

_ “I did listen to you, all those times you criticized me and my ways.” _

“Bye, Liam.”

She hangs up and pushes through the crowd until she reaches the right side stand. It takes her a whole ten minutes to get to Liam, who unfortunately is there with only Finn, a boy she hates.

“Thanks for saving me a seat,” she says, sliding down next to Liam. “How long until the game starts?”

“Ten more minutes or so,” Liam replies, kissing her cheek. Camila tries not to cringe.

“You’re right on time, Mila,” Finn adds, as if that information was necessary. “Nice shirt, by the way.”

She’s wearing a ‘Cabello for President’ grey t-shirt that falls on the line of her belly-button, leaving the rest of her stomach exposed. It’s her own design and she doesn’t care how much people may mock her for it. Every single time she is in public until November 8th, she is in campaign mode. 

Sighing, Camila sends a text to the Clique’s group chat, reminding the girls that she hates them dearly for forcing her to be alone today. She spots Normani already in the field, doing whatever pom-pom chants to ignite the crowd. Hernandez is also in her line of sight, she’d gotten herself a first row seat. Camila snorts when she notices that the girl is way too excited with just the cheerleading routines alone.

“You’ll keep me on top of what’s going on?” she asks Liam, when the two teams come out of the locker rooms and everyone starts clapping and making noise. “Who are we playing against?”

“Don’t I always?” He grins, bumping their shoulders together amicably. “Miami Dade.”

She smiles at him before focusing on the field again. With an ex-boyfriend and a best friend who are so involved in soccer, she should at least know more than ‘get ball in the other team’s net to score a goal’ but alas, she spends half the matches zoned out.

Maybe this one will be different.

 

 

This one is indeed different, even if Camila can’t say she has a better grasp of the sport. She’s a little preoccupied with how apparently Dinah and Lauren have insane chemistry on the field and she didn’t want to be worried about losing a friend to Lauren, on top of everything else she’s already losing — her school role, her reputation, her goddamn  _ mind _ .

They’re sitting close to the field so they can hear the players yelling at each other and Dinah, loud as she is, can be heard above everyone. Camila has lost count of the times Dinah’s shouted her personal variations of Lauren’s name.

(she’s still trying to figure out what the hell ‘Ralph’ is supposed to mean.)

It shouldn’t bother her so much, but it does. Lauren had assisted Dinah in her goal and they’d hugged like they’d just discovered the cure to cancer, for way longer than Camila considered acceptable. They keep creating dangerous opportunities for their team and it’s a matter of time until they’re leading by two goals.

It happens right then: Dinah runs the whole right corridor and centers the ball to the penalty box, where Lauren heads it with a twist of her neck, scoring a goal that no human could have defended.

The bleachers explode in screams and cheers so Camila stands up begrudgingly, clapping without enthusiasm.

“Wow,” Liam breathes out next to her. “New girl’s good.”

Camila bites her tongue to swallow the bitter retort that was sure to come out. “I wouldn’t know,” she mutters once she’s recovered.

“She has good technique and she’s in great shape. Look at her running around the whole half-field, always chasing the play,” Liam points as he explains. Camila is  _ almost _ shocked he believes she would want to understand why a player is good at their job, but then again, Liam had never quite excelled at realizing what makes her heart race. She pretends to be interested anyway. “And she’s smart too. She reads the game before making a decision.”

Camila hums and forces herself to set her eyes on Lauren. She immediately regrets it. Lauren is sweaty, face flushed from exertion, and the only times Camila had seen Lauren’s cheeks that red were when she was so angry it’s a miracle Camila survived to tell the story and, well, Camila doesn’t really think about the other time because insane alcoholic vivid dreams are totally a thing.

Liam is still yapping about game strategy and individual skills but he’s nothing more than background noise to Camila now. He had her focusing on Lauren and now it’s all she can do.

The girl is wearing her hair up in a tight ponytail and it’s the first time Camila sees her not wearing her hair down. It looks pretty on her, highlights her cheekbones and the contour of her jawline. But what has Camila fascinated is how there seems to be a tattoo on the back of Lauren’s neck. She’d never noticed it before.

It’s tiny and it’s all-black, and Camila stares and stares but can’t figure out what it is. It’s frustrating her and making her curious and she’ll never understand why, out of all the people in the world, Lauren Jauregui is the one Camila finds so distracting.

When the referee whistles for half-time, it’s more of a relief than Camila is willing to admit.

 

 

Camila has been waiting for Dinah and Normani for almost an hour and it’s no exaggeration that over twenty girls have left the changing rooms and passed by her and there’s still no sign of her friends. She gets that it’s the first game of the year and their team had won 3-1 with Dinah scoring a goal, but there are limits.

Camila Cabello has many virtues, but patience isn’t one of them.

She’s done sitting around wasting time, so the logical course of action is to barge in and drag those insufferable fools out so they can finish setting up their plans for the evening.

What she sees as she enters isn’t quite what she’s expecting and her jaw drops, her throat making a weird, untoward, squeaky sound that hopefully can’t be heard over the showers running and the giggly conversations in the other area of the room.

Lauren is standing by a bench, the one in front of the door, body wrapped in only a towel. Her wet hair is pulled over her right shoulder, exposing her neck, and Camila takes a step forward unconsciously.

A dragonfly. The tattoo is a dragonfly.

It’s  _ beautiful _ .

She shakes her head to rid her mind of dangerous thoughts and shouts, “Dinah!”

Lauren startles, but says nothing when she sees her there. Camila feels self-conscious and she’s half-expecting Lauren to make a crass comment about her t-shirt, but Lauren stays silent, eyes trained on her and hands keeping the towel in place.

It’s a little awkward as they stare at each other without saying anything. Camila had always felt on edge around Lauren, yet there’s a new layer to her discomfort and she hates it, hates how she becomes a messy shadow of herself, flustered and perpetually annoyed.

“Mila?” Normani rescues her by appearing from the other side of the wall, already dressed up and looking gorgeous. “I was about to go meet you, Dinah just got in the shower.”

“Are you kidding me?” Camila scoffs, moving closer so she doesn’t have to be loud. “You know I always wait for you guys, you could’ve just told me.”

“I’m sorry,” Normani says, looking genuinely so. “It was the first game of senior year and we were so good, we just kinda went overboard with excitement.”

Normani pouts and opens her arms. Camila throws her a playful glare before melting into the embrace. Normani always smells so nice, of earthy sweet scents Camila can’t name, and her skin is so soft sometimes it’s a struggle to stop touching it.

“We can go now, though. Let me just get my bag.” Normani drags her across the locker room to pick up her things and then they walk out of there.

“What about Dinah?” Camila asks, running a little to catch up to Normani’s long strides as she moves across the school grounds.

“The soccer girls are going out to dinner to celebrate so we’ll meet her later.”

“What’s happening later?”

“Dinah wants to go clubbing.” Normani halts as they reach the parking lot. “Shit. I forgot you never bring your car to sports events.”

“I have my bike so I can walk with you and then ride from there.” Camila shrugs. “It’s on the way, I don’t mind.”

“Before you ask, Dinah will text us time and place later,” Normani says, watching as Camila frees her bike. “And no, Lauren isn’t going clubbing so you have to come, no excuses.”

Camila grits her teeth but decides against snapping at her friend. “Do you want to do something together before that? I just need to go home and change.”

“I wanna say pizza and a movie but we’ll get lazy and ditch Dinah,” Normani jokes, stealing the bike’s handlebar from Camila and pushing it herself. “I’ve survived full nights of Dinah drunk texting and calling and I don’t want to go through that again.”

Camila laughs. “I’ll pick you up when I’m ready and we can grab something to eat by the beach?”

“It  _ is _ a nice area to hang out and kill time…”

“Alright.” Camila winks. “You got yourself a nice date with me, Miss Kordei.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was gonna apologise coz the chapter is short and kind of a filler, but it has important details that set up the next few chapters (which are huge!) so i retract my apologies <3
> 
> thank y'all for the continued support, the reception has been great and reading your comments means the world!


	11. at the club

Lauren thinks it’s one of the best days she’s had in a while when she’s still riding on the high from victory by the time they’re sitting in the restaurant.

“...So he tells me that I’m too masculine and I tell him that he’s suffering from _fragile male ego syndrome,_ and does he know that he’s basically acting like a 14 year old girl?” Coach Kelly says and sends the gaggle of girls into a laughing fit as she concludes another story of yet another one of her dates that’s gone awry.

“Boys are fucking dumb,” Dinah scoffs and steals a french fry from Lauren’s plate. Even though she’s got plenty of her own, she’s claiming that Lauren’s taste better. “They’re only good for _one_ thing, if you know what I mean.” She waggles her brows suggestively and the girls giggle in response.

“Let’s be honest, they aren’t _that_ good at that one thing either,” Lauren says and rolls her eyes. Dinah snorts and looks at Lauren with a glint in her eye that Lauren isn’t sure she likes.

“Yeah?” She leans in close. “I’ve always wondered if you’d ever done ‘that one thing’ with boys before. How many notches in your belt, Ralph?”

Lauren nearly chokes on her drink.  She sits back in her chair, putting distance between herself and Dinah.

“That’s… rather personal,” she mutters, shifting uncomfortably as she avoids Dinah’s penetrating gaze.

Dinah doesn’t say anything, just stares at her for a few seconds more before she brushes the sudden tense air off with a laugh.

“I can tell you that _I_ haven’t gotten a good length of dick for a while,” Dinah says with a dirty grin. “So you gonna be my wingman tonight, Laurenzer, yeah?”

Lauren blinks confused. “Your wingman? Where are we going?”

Dinah beams at her. “I haven’t told you? We’re going clubbing!”

Lauren tucks a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “I can’t. I have five pages of Algebra waiting for me at home.” She sighs, already feeling tired at the mere thought, but it’s important since it’s going to count towards her final grade.

Dinah frowns at her. “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice. We won our first game! It’s tradition! Right, girls?” The girls murmur choruses of agreements. Dinah turns to look expectantly at her.

Lauren sighs again. “Dinah, seriously, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can!” Dinah interrupts her. “You’re the most smarty pants nerd I know besides Mila. I know you can do your nerdy AP homework tomorrow.”

Lauren opens her mouth to protest but Dinah reaches across the space between them and grasps Lauren’s hands in her own, fixing her with a rather impressive puppy face. “Come on. _I_ want you there.”

The thing is, Dinah might be right that Lauren can do her Algebra assignment tomorrow, but the real reason she’s reluctant to go, is because she’s afraid the night will end with unflattering pictures of her embarrassingly drunk all over twitter — she swore to herself she’d never drink again after what happened the last time she did.  

“We can’t even get into a club _and_ drink,” Lauren points out, but she knows it’s a feeble excuse. She’s found a way in too many times before and she knows Dinah has a solution.

Dinah confirms that when she gives Lauren a grin and says, “My uncle owns this nightclub. So, no problem there. He’ll clear out a VIP area for us if I ask him to.”

Lauren feels herself giving in. She actually likes hanging out with Dinah and the other girls, and she’s always been down for a night out to celebrate.

She sighs deeply in defeat. “It’s just gonna be us girls, right?” She feels somewhat safer partying with the soccer girls than she does certain people from school. They’re more down to earth and not as gossip hungry.

“Yes!” Dinah says with a squeal. “Go home and make yourself pretty. I’ll text you the address. Do you need someone to pick you up?”

Lauren considers it for a second or two and shakes her head. “I think I’m covered.”

 

 

Bringing Ally along is Lauren’s safety measure to keep her from going off the deep end like last time; the only thing she’s going to be sipping on tonight is water.

Lauren isn’t expecting much of the club, despite Ally gushing about it and gossiping about all the wild stories flourishing at school, but when they get inside, it becomes clear that it isn’t just gossip and rumors.

It’s one of those huge, exclusive nightclubs that garners to Miami’s finest and richest. Dinah is already tipsy by the time they arrive, stumbling a bit in her high heels that make her bare legs look longer than they already are, pulling down on the hem of her daringly short skirt and her hair straightened out, skimming the small of her back — she looks older than she is, but still ridiculously attractive, and Lauren doesn’t miss the tons of eyes that follow Dinah as she makes her way towards them.

“There you are, Ralph!” she shouts, cheeks flushed merrily as she pulls Lauren into a tight hug. She pulls back to look over her and smirks as she grabs Lauren’s boobs. “Your tits look _great_ in that top!”

Lauren laughs and brushes her hands off. “I brought Ally,” she tells Dinah and nods to the girl standing next to her.

Dinah only seems to notice her then, and Ally gives a bright smile and an energized wave. It’s comical how big their height difference is and Dinah must see it too as she grins.

“Hi, Smalls.”  

Ally looks almost honored by the nickname.

“Come on! I’ve got a booth for us at the VIP area, girls!” Dinah grabs Lauren’s wrist and Lauren in turn grabs Ally’s hand before Dinah pulls them along through the thick throng of people.

The VIP area is a wide space with cushy seats and soft blue lights. The music is softer as well, no longer threatening to pop out your eardrums, and the air smells more of lime than gyrating, sweaty bodies. She catches sight of her soccer girls, looking completely transformed in their makeup and skimpy clothes as they occupy a corner. Lauren starts to think she might enjoy the night.

Twenty minutes in and she’s _definitely_ enjoying herself as she stands by the railing with Dinah, looking over the dancing crowd.

“What about him down there? In the red shirt? He’s _hot_.” Dinah giggles, already on her God knows how many drink.

Lauren finds him with her eyes. “The one at the bar?” When Dinah nods, she laughs and rolls her eyes. “Dinah, he looks at least _40._ ”

“So?” Dinah says with a little mischievous grin, baring her pearly whites. “The older they are, the more experienced they are.”

Lauren shakes her head fondly. “It’s fucking _gross_.”

Dinah waves her off. “You’re just a prude,” she says good-naturedly before she points her finger at another guy. “What about him!?”

Lauren is about to ask her if she’s seriously pointing at another middle-aged man with a beer belly and a sweaty, receding hairline, but she’s interrupted by an all too familiar voice.

“Hey! DJ!”

They turn simultaneously towards the voice and when Lauren sees that it’s none other than Camila Cabello accompanied by Normani Kordei coming up the stairs to the VIP area, her stomach all but drops to her feet.

Dinah shouts in delight and runs towards them. She engulfs them in tight hugs and smacks kisses that are closer to the corner of their mouth than their actual cheeks.

Lauren is tense as she watches the Clique greet each other, or more specifically, as she stares at Camila with deep annoyance. She’s wearing some tight little dress that hugs every single one of her curves.

Camila is mid laugh at something Dinah said when she catches sight of Lauren. If Lauren wasn’t so pissed herself, she’d find it comical how drastically Camila’s cheerful features fall upon seeing her.

Camila clenches her jaw tightly as she glares at Lauren and Lauren returns the glare with equal viscosity. The air between them is so physically charged that it’s palpable, to the point where it feels like every single molecule is about to burst.

Dinah and Normani notice the tension between them and Dinah laughs nervously. That laugh quickly dies down when Camila and Lauren simultaneously turn their heated glares on her.

“Dinah, what the _hell_ is _she_ doing here?” Camila snaps at the same time as Lauren exclaims,

“You said it was _only_ going to be us, Dinah!”

Dinah’s gaze ping-pongs between Camila and Lauren for a second before she exclaims, “Oh! This is my song! _Bye_!” and high-tails it out of there.

Once she’s gone, Lauren turns her anger back on Camila, sneering; “You just _have_ to ruin everything, don’t you?” She had been enjoying herself and had actually looked forward to a few more fun hours before she called it a night, but _of course_ Camila fucking Cabello existed solely to ruin Lauren’s day. _Fuck_ her and her tiny dress and slim legs.

Camila levels her with a condescending gaze and scoffs, “As far as I’m concerned, _you_ are the one who slithers your way into _my_ territories! Don’t you have friends of your own, Jauregui?”

“Oh, so you’re _jealous_ because Dinah likes me—”

“As if! I would never be jealous of a pathetic, little _escoria_ like you!” Camila shoots back, starting to walk towards Lauren. She doesn’t get far as Normani grabs her arm, forcefully stopping her. Lauren is disappointed, cause she would’ve liked to see what Camila thought she could do to her.

Normani pulls Camila back, despite the girl’s protest, and murmurs to her, “It’s not worth it. We came here to have fun. And I want to dance. Come on.”

Camila reluctantly follows Normani but not without a last, fierce glare at Lauren, and Lauren retaliates by flipping her the finger.

“Whoa, what’s happening here!” Ally pops up next to her. “That looked intense.”

“I need a drink,” Lauren grouses, tearing her gaze away from where it was following Camila’s bum. She isn’t going to get through the night without some alcohol in her blood. She should probably just leave, but she’d rather slit her own throat than give Camila that satisfaction.

“I thought you weren’t going to drink,” Ally points out as she follows Lauren to the bar, “Remember what happened last time? You were making out with a wall—”

“I was _not_!” Lauren protests, appalled but then pauses, unsure. “Please tell me I wasn’t.”

Ally laughs and claps her shoulder. “Kidding. But seriously, you don’t want another repeat of that night. Don’t worry though, I got you.”

Lauren sighs, “Thanks, Al.”

 

 

For the next hour or so, Lauren aggressively concentrates on ignoring Camila as she dances with Ally or whatever configuration of her soccer girls she stumbles onto. A drink or two and the tenseness in her body fades away, allowing her to relax.

But the thing is, no matter how hard she tries to pretend Camila isn’t there, she catches her eyes betraying her, searching for her and always, _always_ finding her with ease as if a part of her knows exactly where she is. Camila stays close to Normani and Dinah, dancing with them in a silly manner, the only apparent move she is capable of is throwing her long, silky hair this and that way, grinning with her tongue between her teeth. Every time Lauren finds herself watching her, she enjoys the night a little less.

At one point, she goes to the bar to fetch drinks for herself and her girls and of course, Camila is already there. She looks bored as she stands by the counter, staring at her phone.

Lauren slides up next to her and Camila looks up, her neutral expression transforming into an exasperated eye-roll.

“I should get a restraining order against you,” she says dryly.

Lauren scoffs, “Please, don’t flatter yourself, Cabello. It’s embarrassing.”

“What are you still doing here?” Camila snarks as she throws her hair over her shoulder, and Lauren gets momentarily distracted by the smooth skin of her neck.

“I’m having fun watching you _not_ having fun,” Lauren says in an intentionally cheerful manner, because she _knows_ it pisses Camila off.

Camila purses her pink lips, “Why are you so obsessed with me?”

Lauren rolls her eyes. “There you go again, flattering yourself.”

The bartender places a ridiculously bright colored drink in front of Camila.

“From the gentleman over there,” he informs, and nods towards a guy a few seats away. The guy looks college-aged, has a square jaw and impossibly blue eyes. He smiles charmingly at Camila and Camila giggles and smiles back.

Lauren scoffs so hard that Camila turns to glower at her.

“Are you jealous that no one will buy your sorry ass a drink?” she taunts.

Lauren’s eyes narrow. “Oh please, I could get every single guy in here to buy me a drink.”

Camila snickers and brings the drink to her mouth. “That’s cute, Jauregui.”

Lauren is about to say something biting back but then she sees the guy approaching them and her jaw clenches tightly.

The guy sidles up close to Camila and offers a charming smile. “Hi, my name is Todd and you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh _please_.” Lauren rolls her eyes so hard that it hurts and Camila shoots her a glare. She turns back to the fuckboy and chuckles,

“Thank you,” she says in a weird, sickly sweet voice that Lauren has never heard before. “I’m Camila.”

"Well, _Hola Señorita!_ ” Todd says with a stupid grin. “I love Latina girls. They’re so exotic!”

Lauren thinks she’s lost some brain cells just from hearing that and can’t help but make a gagging noise.

Camila ignores her and giggles like a stupid blonde. It’s beyond Lauren what she finds so funny; surely she isn’t entertaining this white boy hoping for something in return. Not that Lauren cares, of course, it’s probably her own fault for thinking that Camila had _some_ standards.

“Thanks for the drink, Todd,” she says as she brings it to her lips, looking at Todd through her long lashes. Todd eats it up, staring at Camila like she’s an appetizing meal.

“ _De nada, Señorita,_ ” Todd says in an accent that makes Lauren cringe, then boasts, “I took Spanish in High school.”

“Oh my God,” Lauren says, appalled. Todd notices her then and it doesn’t escape Lauren’s attention how his gaze drops to her cleavage.

“Is that your friend?” he asks.

“She’s no one,” Camila dismisses, and proceeds to shamelessly flirt with the guy.

Lauren should not be this annoyed. She had promised herself to enjoy tonight, despite Camila’s presence. She just needs to order the drinks and return to her girls.

She doesn’t, because Todd asks Camila for a dance with some nauseating words:

“Will you show me on the dance floor if your hips truly don’t lie?”

Camila must be _gagging_ for cock, because she entertains his dumb white fuckery, does that annoying giggle and lets him lead her to the dance floor.

Lauren watches them for about two minutes, before she downs Camila’s sickly sweet drink and charges towards them.

She has decided that Camila had insulted her by implying that guys were more interested in her than in Lauren, and therefore she’s taking it upon herself to prove her wrong.

The music gets louder as she pushes through sweaty, writhing bodies until she makes it to where Todd already has his hands on Camila’s hips.

She starts dancing right next to them. It’s not as much a dance as it’s her feeling herself up while she moves her hips to the beat, with the sole purpose of getting their attention.

Todd notices her immediately and Lauren locks eyes with him, sending him the smoldering look she’s perfected over the years. It works — it _always_ does —; he falls for it, hook, line and sinker. He stares back at her, lips curling into a smile, and that’s when Camila notices her as well.

The annoyed look on Camila’s face makes Lauren smirk as she exaggerates her moves. She drags her fingers down her neck, slipping it into her cleavage and both Camila and Todd follow the motion.

“What is your problem, Jauregui?” Camila asks. “Can you go away?”

“Ladies, ladies, ladies!” Todd curls his arms around both Camila and Lauren, wide grin cocky and smug. “There’s enough of me to go around!”

Lauren rolls her eyes so hard that it hurts and she’s about to say something stingy that’ll take Todd down several notches. She doesn’t however, when Camila wraps an arm around him, possessively turning his body to herself.

Lauren takes it as a challenge. Of course she does.

 

The next several minutes go a bit like this:

Lauren and Camila aggressively compete on who can keep Todd’s attention on them for the longest time. Ironically enough, neither of them realizes that they’re paying more attention to each other than to Todd.

Lauren knows that it’s getting ridiculous — especially when Todd, with his inflated ego, starts groping her. She wants to shove him away but she’ll be damned if she gives up before Camila does.

They accidentally bump into one another and Camila snaps, “Watch it!”

“My bad,” Lauren says as she purposefully knocks her hip into Camila’s. She does it harder than intended and sends Camila stumbling into some random person. The person is nice enough to steady Camila on her feet.

Camila gives her a withering glare before she turns on her heels and stomps away.

The thrill of victory is short lived when she feels eager hands on her ass. She pointedly shoves Todd away from her, her interest in him diminished to below zero. She ignores him as she disappears off into the crowd.

Lauren feels her phone vibrating against her skin from where it’s tugged in her bra. She fishes it out and it’s Ally and the soccer girls blowing up her phone, wondering where she disappeared off to. Lauren ignores them. At the moment, she’s much more interested in rubbing her victory into Camila’s face.

She looks around for her, but quickly gives up. She more than likely returned to the VIP area and Lauren will look for her there. But first, she needs to empty her bladder.

She’s surprised when she finds Camila in the restroom, standing in front of the mirrors above the sinks and daintily reapplying her pink lipgloss.

Camila eyes are stormy when she sees her walk in and she spins around and stalks towards Lauren, the sound of her clicking heels loud against the floor. She stops in front of Lauren and snarls,

“Can I have one minute to myself without you stalking me, you creep?”

Lauren smirks. “Damn, are you really _that_ pissed that that fuckboy liked me more than you? I mean, you shouldn’t even be surprised, Cabello. You’re a superficial, mean and unlikable person.”

“Ugh! I fucking _hate_ you!” Camila exclaims and then she digs her palms into Lauren’s shoulder and _pushes_ her.

Lauren stumbles back and stares at her. “Did you just shove me?”

Camila’s nose flares. “Get the hell out of here or I’ll do _much_ worse.”

Lauren’s eyes narrow and she steps forward, shoving Camila back, drinking in her fuming expression.

“Like _what_?” she challenges.

Lauren sees the moment Camila snaps and her eyes widen with realization when Camila lifts her hand. It’s too late for her to dodge and the next second, her head jerks to the side, cheek blooming red in the shape of Camila’s fingers.

Then follows a moment of complete silence other than Camila’s heavy breathing as Lauren slowly lifts a hand to her stinging cheek, disbelief painted on her face. As she turns her flabbergasted gaze on Camila, the girl looks as wide-eyed.

They stare at each other. All Lauren can hear is the sound of her heart rattling against her ribcage and of blood rushing in her ears. The realization that Camila just smacked her settles in and with it, the anger.

She takes a deep breath, stalks towards Camila and grabs her face between her hands, kissing her in a hard, unforgiving kiss that hurts more than it feels good.

Camila stumbles back a bit with the force of it and Lauren follows. Camila regains her composure fast though, pushing back against Lauren, returning her aggressive kiss. She pushes her fingers into Lauren’s hair, tangling it in her fingers and pulling so hard that Lauren can feel the sharp pinpricks of pain in her scalp. In retaliation, she bites down Camila’s soft lip, causing her to whimper.

Lauren takes hold of Camila’s tiny waist and starts blindly pushing her in the direction of the nearest toilet stall. They release each other as they tumble inside and Lauren fumbles with the lock. She turns to stare at Camila who already looks wrecked, half her lipstick is off — unmistakably on Lauren —, and her cheeks are flushed cherry red.

“I can’t believe you hit me,” Lauren pants, still incredulous.

Camila licks her bottom lip and says breathlessly, “You deserved it. I should’ve done it sooner.”

In response, Lauren pins her up against the wall and kisses her. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knows this isn’t the appropriate response to someone smacking the shit out of you, but right now her head is clouded by the smell of Camila’s sweet perfume and the feeling of her soft curves pressing against Lauren.

Camila fights for control in the kiss, pushing her tongue into Lauren’s mouth, her fingers finding their way back into Lauren’s hair. All Lauren has to do is drag her fingers up Camila’s thigh and Camila falters, moaning softly into Lauren’s mouth, giving Lauren the opening to regain control.

Lauren doesn’t remember the last time she’d felt her skin burning up this fast — maybe at the party but the memory is blurred by alcohol — and she needs to satisfy the throbbing urge like she needs air.

She curls her fingers under the hem of Camila’s tight, little dress, and yanks it up over her hips without warning.

Suddenly Camila shoves her away and Lauren only gets the briefest glimpse of her black, lace underwear before she pulls her dress back down.

“What are you doing?” Camila asks, looking embarrassed.

Lauren blinks at her. “What?” she says dumbly, arousal making her slow.

Camila makes a wild gesture at their surroundings. “ _Here_?”

Lauren looks around as if she needs a reminder where they are. It’s then that she notices how surprisingly clean it is in here, but she should expect nothing less of this fancy club.

“You’re too much of a prude to do it in here?” Lauren teases as she turns her attention back on a flustered Camila.

“I’m not a _prude_ ,” Camila huffs. “I just have dignity and self-respect, something that you so clearly lack.”

Lauren scoffs and crowds back into Camila’s space. “Are you sure?” she says quietly against Camila’s ear. “Are you sure you aren’t a prude?” She nibbles on Camila earlobe, satisfied when she hears Camila’s breath catch. She grabs the back of Camila’s soft thighs. “Are you sure you want me to stop?”

Camila lets out a sound of frustration. “Be _quick_ , before someone comes in,” she snaps.

“So bossy,” Lauren says, and cuts off Camila’s insult with a kiss. She eagerly returns to her previous business of yanking Camila’s dress up, her hands finding their way to her round ass, surprised when she meets skin instead of underwear.

“Holy shit,” Lauren whispers as she feels a rush of heat between her legs at the realization that Camila’s wearing a _lace thong_. Which can only mean, “You came to the club with the intention of getting fucked. You’re not a prude after all— Ouch!” Lauren exclaims pained when Camila pulls her hair.

“Shut up,” she hisses. “I didn’t come here to get fucked in a dirty bathroom stall!”

Lauren smirks at the obvious but refrains from pointing it out. Instead, she turns Camila around and pushes her against the wall. She gets momentarily distracted by Camila’s ass, looking bouncier in the thong until Camila snaps at her to hurry.

Lauren doesn’t need to be told that twice. She yanks Camila’s underwear down, letting it catch awkwardly at her knees, and reaches down, cupping her where she’s already dripping and the fact that she’s so wet is enough to send Lauren’s head spinning.

She doesn’t waste any time teasing and instead goes straight to rubbing her throbbing clit. Camila gasps sharply and bucks back against Lauren. She’s so damn sensitive, doing a poor job of muffling a whine when Lauren sinks into her with one finger. She lets two more fingers plunge into Camila’s wet cunt, knuckle-deep, and Camila lets out something in between a moan and a sob, thighs squeezing tight but Lauren forcefully parts them to make space for her thrusting fingers.

She strokes into her in a quick, rough pace that has Camila trembling and whimpering. Her head falls back against Lauren’s shoulder as arousal overtakes her, eyes closed and mouth hanging open wantonly.

“Tell me, Cabello,” Lauren pants against her ear, “how much does it piss you off that _I_ am the one who’s making you feel this good?”

“S-Shut up,” Camila stumbles over her words when Lauren purposefully rubs her clit. “You’re such an insufferable—”

“Shhh!” Lauren interrupts sharply at the sound of the restroom door opening followed by the sound of heels against the floor.

Lauren feels Camila’s body tense at the sound of girls chatting loudly as they enter the restroom.

“...it was sooo funny, she just spilled the drink over his lap and left,” a familiar voice says, and Lauren feels Camila’s whole body tighten up. The voice belongs to none other than Normani Kordei.

“Yeah! I saw!” Another familiar voice followed by an even more familiar giggle sends Lauren’s heart jumping to her throat.

 _Ally_.

Neither her nor Camila are breathing at this point as they listen to their friends talk.

“Do you think this lipstick is too dark?” Normani asks. “I brought a lighter shade just in case.”

“Oh no, you look gorgeous! I mean, your lipstick looks gorgeous! You do too, of course,” Ally stumbles over her words awkwardly, clears her throat, “What I mean to say is that you can pull anything off.”

“Aw, thank you. You’re so sweet,” Normani says with a soft laugh.

Lauren is caught between being confused at the interaction happening outside and terrified that she could be caught any second. The throbbing between her legs has grown in intensity to the point where it feels like it has it own heartbeat.

“Your eyeliner has smudged,” Normani says.

“I can never get it to stay on for more than a couple of hours,” Ally replies, sounding disappointed.

“The trick is to use a little eyeshadow,” Normani shares. “Here, I brought a little. Can I do it for you?”

“Yes,” Ally says a little too eagerly. “Please.”

Lauren realizes that they aren’t leaving anytime soon and she’s still three fingers deep in Camila, who feels like a statue against her. She curls her fingers tight inside of Camila just for some kind of reaction from her. Camila lets out a startled gasp and Lauren is quick to clamp a hand tight over her mouth. She muffles a grunt of pain when Camila jabs her elbow right into her boob.

“Did you hear that?” Normani asks.

There’s a moment of silence where Lauren is sure she can hear Camila’s heartbeat going crazy in synch with her own.

“No, I didn’t,” Ally says, and Camila’s breath of relief cascades against Lauren’s hand. “Are you coming to church tomorrow? I’m thinking of calling it a night soon, so I don’t look like personified sin tomorrow morning.”

Normani laughs. “I hear you, girl. I’m heading home too, but Camila’s my ride and I don’t know where she disappeared off to.”

Lauren can’t fight off the smirk that spreads along her lips and she starts fingering Camila with purpose, quick pumps that hit deep, rubbing her swollen clit in time with her strokes. Camila’s thigh trembles, her fingers wrapping around Lauren’s wrist, nails digging painfully into her skin.

“Yeah, I can’t find Lauren anywhere either. Do you think one killed the other and they are now busy covering the crime?” Ally jokes, unaware that her friend is a mere feet away from her, busy covering something else entirely.

Lauren has Camila at her mercy and the power trip she gets from it is more intoxicating than any number of alcoholic drinks. Combine that with the thrill of being _so close_ to getting caught and Lauren’s floating on pure adrenaline and lust.

She leans in and whispers in Camila’s ear.

“Be quiet. They’re gonna hear us.”

She regrets her words the minute Camila sinks her teeth into the palm of Lauren’s hand and Lauren instinctively jerks her hand away, muffling her cry of pain into the back of Camila’s shoulder.

“Fuck you,” Camila pants quietly.

“I swear I just heard something,” Normani says.

“Me too,” Ally says. “Someone might be in one of the stalls.”

Lauren starts panicking but then she hears the sound of their heels disappearing, the door opening and closing as they leave. As soon as she’s certain they’re gone, she snaps,

“That fucking hurt!” She brings her throbbing hand up to check it. “I can see your teeth marks on my skin!”

“They almost caught us because of you!” Camila accuses fiercely.

“It’s not my fault that you’re so damn sensitive,” Lauren says and to prove her point, she flickers her thumb across Camila’s clit, making her buck with a wanton groan. “And it’s not my fault that you’re so shamelessly loud.”

Camila starts insulting her in Spanish but her voice falters and breaks when Lauren starts up her relentless pace.

“Fuck,” Camila whispers shakily, her face falling against the cold wall as she spreads her legs a little wider. Lauren presses in close, grinding against her round ass, desperate for some kind of friction to her burning core. She’s frustrated at her leather pants separating their skin. She can feel her soaking panties clinging to her sensitive skin.

A needy little keen spills over Camila’s lips when Lauren curls her fingers a certain way; a sound that goes straight to Lauren’s groin. Eager to hear it again, Lauren rubs that spot mercilessly until Camila loses all inhibitions and starts moaning and whimpering and whining with abandon as the wet sound of Lauren’s fingers pumping inside of her becomes obscene.

“You sound downright pornographic, Cabello,” Lauren mutters as she concentrates on bringing Camila the last bit of the way. Camila is so close to the edge and so far gone that she doesn’t even bother with a snarky response — if she even hears what Lauren’s saying, that is.

Lauren slows down her fingers without warning and Camila lets out a loud whine that makes Lauren chuckle.

“Don’t stop!” Camila says, but her voice is so wrecked it comes out more as a plea than the order she properly intended it to be.

“Be more polite,” Lauren responds with a smirk, dragging her fingers against Camila’s walls torturously slow.

Camila turns her head to glare at Lauren, but even her glare is weakened by the glaze of lust that covers her eyes. “A-are you fucking serious right—ahhh…” she lets her head fall back against the wall when Lauren gently pinches her throbbing clit.

“I couldn’t be more serious,” Lauren whispers against her ear and kisses down the back of her neck.

“P-Please,” she spits out. “Please don’t stop, _estúpida_.”

It’s not exactly what Lauren had in mind, but she’ll take it. She starts up again, keeping an even rhythm as her other hand smooths over the soft of Camila’s tummy, feeling how tight it is underneath her palm.

When Camila comes, her whole body seizes up for a moment, cunt holding Lauren’s fingers in a death grip, then the next moment she’s trembling, tight walls spasming with the force of it, gushing over Lauren’s hand.

Once it’s over, she falters, wobbling in her high heels, and Lauren presses her free arm around her waist, keeping her steady.

Lauren uses the moment when Camila looks completely gone to remove her fingers from her cunt in favor of dragging them across Camila’s parted lips, leaving them slick and shiny. That appears to sober Camila up as she jerks away, wiping off her lips with the back of her hand. She spins around so fast that she trips when her panties lock her knees together.

“What the fuck was that!?” she exclaims but Lauren doesn’t quite pay attention, because she’s got an eyeful of Camila’s cunt: wet and slick and puffy. Lauren inhales sharply, squeezing her thighs together when she feels the distinct throb between them.

“What are you looking at?” Camila screeches, face red as she hastily pulls up her skimpy underwear and then yanks down her dress.

Lauren blinks at her, because Camila might’ve gotten off, but Lauren is as, if not _more_ , horny as she was when they first got into this tiny stall.

Camila just stares back at her for a moment, clearly not intending to lift a finger to return the favor.  She picks up her purse from the floor and unlocks the door, walking out.

Lauren takes a deep shuddering breath and swallows down the frustration, following her out of the stall.

“You’re such a pillow princess, Cabello.”

Camila spins around, face contorted in an offended expression. “I’m _not_. I don’t have time for this.”

She walks towards the exit and Lauren shouts, “Wait!”

Camila sighs exasperated but stops and says, “What now, Jauregui?”

“Do you really wanna go out looking like that?” Lauren asks, gesturing to Camila. “You’ve got that ‘freshly fucked’ look.”

Camila turns to the rows of mirrors and stares at her reflection. Her hair's a mess and her lipstick has smeared off her kiss-swollen lips.

“Ugh,” Camila huffs embarrassed as she attempts to put herself together, finger-brushing her hair and reapplying her lipstick. While she does that, Lauren puts effort into looking somewhat presentable herself, wiping off Camila’s lipstick from her face.

Once Camila is satisfied, she turns to look at Lauren, commanding. “I’ll go out first, then you come out ten minutes later. Understand?” Without waiting for consent, she walks out.

Lauren disregards her order and walks out a few seconds later. She quickly regrets it when they run into Dinah as soon as they step out of the restroom.

Dinah, who seems to have gotten one too many drinks, stumbles into them with a squeal.

“Mila! Ralph! Where have you been? I’ve been looking eeeeverywhere for you,” she slurs her words, sloppily kissing Camila’s cheek. “I missed you! And Laurenza! Our song! It came on!” She starts singing _Naughty Girl_ with startlingly impressive vocals. She pauses, staring at Camila’s neck.

“What?” Camila asks, self-consciously.

Dinah grins widely and jabs a finger into Camila’s neck. “I see you got a little _naughty_ , Walz! Who is here? Where is he? Is he hot?”

Camila covers her neck but before she does, Lauren sees the little, red bruise on her skin.

 _Oops_.

“It’s not what you think!” Camila exclaims unconvincingly and she’s hilariously bad at lying under pressure.

Dinah purses her lips. “Wait a minute.” Her gaze flickers from Camila to Lauren and Lauren’s heart stutters to a halt.

Dinah makes to say something, but is interrupted when some guy knocks into her.

“I’m so sorry!” he shouts over the music and is about to continue on his way, but Dinah grabs his arms, stopping him.

“Hi,” she greets. “You’ve got such _strong_ arms!”

The guy looks annoyed at first but it evaporates in a hot second when he gets a closer look at Dinah. Then he’s suddenly all predatory teeth and glinting eyes.

“Thank you,” he says, eyeing her like a piece of meat. “You’ve got gorgeous legs.”

Dinah giggles. “I think they’d look more gorgeous wrapped around your head.”

Lauren blinks and the next second, Dinah’s sucking faces with the stranger. “Holy shit,” she says, unsure if she’s impressed or disturbed.

Camila lets out an exasperated groan and separates Dinah from the guy, despite her friend’s protests.

“Mila!” she whines. “What are you doing!”

“Rescuing you,” Camila says as she steers her away from the guy. “You’re stupid drunk. I think it’s time to get you home.”

“Aw, come on!” the guy complains, throwing his arms to the side.

“She’s underage, you creep,” Lauren says to him, and watches how that shuts him up. She tunes out his rambling about how much she doesn’t look underage and follows Camila and Dinah back to the VIP area.

When they get upstairs, Lauren locates her purse where she left it with a few soccer girls and looks around for Ally, but there’s no sign of her.

“Where’s Normani?” Camila asks the girls while trying to make Dinah drink a huge glass of water.

“Oh, I think I saw her leave with Ally Brooke,” one of them responds.

“What?” Lauren asks surprised. Ally was supposed to be her ride. She fishes out her phone from her purse and discovers she’s gotten several texts from Ally.

 **Ally [1:26 AM]** _where are you_

 **Ally [1:32 AM]** _lauren ????_

 **Ally [1:39 AM]** _i have to leave soon_

 **Ally [1:47 AM]** _ok nobody knows where you are_

 **Ally [1:55 AM]** _i’m leaving and giving normani a ride :)_

“Un-fucking-believable!” Lauren hisses under her breath. She honestly doesn’t know what to make of the surprising and sudden friendship between Ally and Normani. “She was my ride!”

Camila snorts as she pulls on her jacket and helps Dinah into hers. “Sucks to be you, Jauregui.”

“Oh stop it, Mila!” Dinah exclaims, and smiles brightly at Lauren. “She can drive with us!”

“No,” Camila refuses automatically.

“It’s fine,” Lauren says. “I’ll catch an uber with the girls. You guys leaving soon?” she asks, looking at them.

They shake their heads. “Maybe in a couple of hours?”

“No, no, no, Laurenza!” Dinah is suddenly on her, pulling her close by her shoulder. “You’re coming with us! I forced you to come here and I’ll damn right make sure that you get home to your nerdy homework!”

“Dinah,” Camila says through gritted teeth, but Dinah dismisses her with a wave of her hand.

“Relax, Camila,” she says as she pulls Lauren along. “She’s on our way!”

Camila starts protesting again, but Dinah doesn’t listen to her, just pulls Lauren towards the exit leaving Camila no choice but to follow, silently seething.

When they get to the car, Lauren helps Dinah into the backseat. Once she’s secured her down with the strap, she climbs into the front seat.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Camila glares at her. “Get in the backseat.”

Lauren makes a show of slowly strapping herself in while keeping eye-contact with an infuriated Camila.

“Make me.”

Camila’s jaw clenches tightly and she turns the key in the ignition with aggression, pulling out so fast that Lauren has to grip onto something not to fall sideways. Dinah, however, is too drunk to catch herself, and she ends up with her face smacked against the window.

“Camila! What the fuck!” Dinah complains.

“Sorry,” Camila says without bothering to make it sound like she means it.

“Turn the radio on!” Dinah cheers, incident already forgotten. “Come on, Chancho!”

Camila, obviously still upset that Dinah brought Lauren along, ignores her pointedly. Lauren reaches for the radio but Camila smacks her hand away.

“Don’t touch my radio,” she says irritated as she turns the knob herself.

“You really like to hit me, don’t you?” Lauren says, and adds quietly so only Camila can hear, “Kinky.”

“ _Callate_ , _chorra_!” Camila hisses but Lauren laughs at the redness crawling up her neck and settling heavy and hot in her cheeks.

“Oh my God! I love this song!” Dinah announces as the radio blasts a Bruno Mars song and she sings along enthusiastically. Lauren is once again surprised by her pipes and she starts singing along as well — because it’s _Bruno Mars_ and he can get anyone fired up.

Except Camila apparently, who’s gripping the wheel too tight and sending Lauren unreadable looks.

She rolls her eyes hard when Lauren sings the lyrics ‘ _Why you mad? Fix your face!_ ” but Lauren spots a ghost of a smile on her lips. It’s possible that she imagined it.

Lauren’s actually enjoying herself until Dinah is snoring within ten minutes and the tension in the car becomes suffocating. They drive in complete silence for another 5 minutes in which Lauren stares out of the window, watching the pretty city lights float by.

“I’m down the end of that street,” Lauren speaks up. She’s surprised that Camila doesn’t pull over and kick her out now that Dinah is drooling in the backseat.

Instead, Camila follows Lauren’s directions but not without huffing and rolling her eyes, though Lauren ignores that completely.

“We’re here,” Lauren says, and Camila rolls to a stop by Lauren’s house, sending it an uninterested glance.

Lauren knows that a ‘thank you’ is befitting of the situation, but she swears she’s physically incapable of forming the words in relation to Camila.

“So, this is the hole you crawl out of every morning,” Camila comments dryly and just like that, Lauren feels like she isn’t deserving of a thanks after all.

“Whatever, Cabello,” she says and opens the car door. “Probably should put some banana peel on that,” she says and looks pointedly at the bruise on Camila’s neck.

Camila covers it with her hand and checks if Dinah is still knocked out.

“I can’t believe you put that on me. You’re so _tacky_!”

Lauren climbs out of the car. “As far as I can remember, you weren’t protesting. If anything you were _begging_ me to—”

“Goodbye!” Camila snaps and reaches out to shut the passenger door.

“Bye, pillow princess!”

Camila scowls at her before she speeds off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everyone alive? [eyes emoji]


	12. the homeroom campaign videos

The first thing Camila wants to do when she gets home is take a shower, but she can’t. She can’t because now that she’s driven Dinah home — and she had to take her to bed since Dinah was in no condition to do anything other than pass out in the hallway —, there is nothing else to occupy her mind. And so she panics.

She feels it coming, she always does. There are beads of sweat on her forehead and everything becomes blurry, making it hard for her to walk to her room. She stumbles inside in her dizzy state, and sits on the floor, back against her bed. Her throat is tightening and she gets butterflies in her stomach, the kind she would rather never experience, she would pay for it even.

Camila is terrified, and her heart pounds faster and faster, and threatens to come out of her chest.

It’s hard to think but she remembers the tricks she’d learned to overcome this: belly-breathing is the first step. She digs her nails in her belly and takes a deep breath, holding it in for as long as she can before exhaling so slowly it seems like a whole hour has passed.

But then again, it always feels like time expands into eternity when she’s panicking.

She doesn’t hold in the next breath she takes, she just focuses on keeping them deep and steady, and repeats the process until the beating of her heart no longer vibrates on the skin of her breasts.

Looking around the room, Camila tries to notice pleasant things but it’s too dark for her to see. Her guitar is in the corner and she can’t play, not when it’s so late, so she starts humming her favorite lullaby and doesn’t stop until she knows the panic is gone.

It’s gone but it leaves her drained and exhausted and she wishes she could just curl up in bed and sleep, but Lauren’s smell is imbued in the club stench of her dress, and it rolls off of her pores like a disease.

Camila will shower and she will sleep and when she wakes up tomorrow, she will think about what all of this means.

 

 

“Kaki, Kaki!”

Camila groans, trying to shift under her sister’s weight. “Sofi, if it’s earlier than ten, I swear to God…”

“It’s ten,” Sofi says, with a huge grin. “It’s Sunday and we always watch a movie on Sunday mornings!”

Camila groans some more, and starts shaking on purpose so Sofi loses her balance and falls next to her on the mattress, laughing.

“Who’s picking today?” Camila asks, stretching.

“Your turn, Kaki.” Sofi stands up and grabs Camila’s hand, pulling her.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Camila mutters, dragging her body to the edge of the bed so she can stare at the floor. “Where are my slippers?”

Sofi gets them for her and pushes the blanket back. “Can we watch  _ The Book of Life _ ?”

“I thought it was my turn to pick.”

“Yes, so I’m asking you, not telling you,” Sofi replies, and Camila lifts her brows at the little girl’s sass.

“Fine, your majesty, let’s watch that.”

“Yay!” She runs out and Camila can hear her heavy steps down the stairs and her mom’s voice yelling for them to stop running in the house. “Come on,  _ mamá _ made banana pancakes!”

That is more than enough motivation for Camila to get up.

 

 

Camila is about to restart working on her essay on the history of the electoral college for AP Government when her phone buzzes. She ignores it at first but the rhythm is constant so she picks it up and glances at the screen. Sure enough, it’s 2:17 PM and a hilarious picture of Dinah with a duckface flashes at her. Camila is willing to bet she just woke up.

“You’re paying for my shake next time we go to Johnny’s.”

_ “How did a tiny smol like yourself get me into bed?” _ Dinah asks, voice low and lazy.  _ “Did Lauser help you?” _

Camila’s blood freezes in her veins at the mention of the name and it takes her a few seconds to recover. Dinah notices.

_ “Walz?” _

“I took Lauren home first,” she says, swallowing, “then you. You were drunk and heavy but surprisingly cooperative.”

_ “Wow, that’s a first,” _ Dinah lets out, wistfully.  _ “Any crazy stories I should know about? I’m not sure I remember everything.” _

Camila sighs and leaves her desk to pace around the bedroom. “You kissed two guys, from what I could see.”

_ “I remember three,” _ Dinah cuts in, and Camila can perfectly visualize the mischievous smile on her face,  _ “but you probably weren’t there for one of them because you were gone foreverrrrrr. Where were you?” _

Camila gulps. “In the bathroom.”

_ “For that long?!” _ Dinah screeches, making Camila grimace.  _ “Wait, I saw you leaving the bathroom with Lauren.” _ She halts and Camila distracts herself by imagining the gears in her brain turning.  _ “What were you doing in the bathroom with Lauren, Camila?” _

“Arguing.”

_ “Arguing?” _

Dinah sounds suspicious and Camila nods even though Dinah can’t see her. “Arguing,” she repeats. “It got… intense.”

_ “Intense as in she jumped you?” _ Dinah asks, trying not to laugh.  _ “I might’ve been drunk but I remember seeing some purple-ish mark on your neck.” _

“No, that was some fuckboy on the dancefloor.” The lie slips out easily and Camila pinches the bridge of her nose. She can count how many times she’s lied to Dinah on the fingers of one hand and half of those had involved a surprise birthday party. When had she become this person? “Intense as in we got into a physical fight.”

_ “What?!” _

“I don’t know, Dinah, she just—” Camila sighs, letting herself fall back on her bed. “It was stupid and I regret it.”

_ “What happened, Mila?” _ Dinah prods. Camila is really really fond of the way she softens when she realizes her friends are upset.

“She came over to me when I was waiting for drinks at the bar and we started hating on each other as usual and I think she got offended when I told her I could have any guy I wanted and she couldn’t?” The sentence is released like a question — when it comes to Lauren, Camila isn’t sure about anything anymore. “So when this college guy started hitting on me, she took it as a challenge and we sort of… started competing for his attention.” She exhales loudly. “God, it was so embarrassing. I wasn’t even drunk!”

Dinah cackles.  _ “Holy shit, Mila, I didn’t know you had it in you!” _

“Neither did I!” Camila whines, covering her eyes with her free hand. “I never wanted to be the kind of girl that fights for the attention of boys. There are so many boys and they are so dumb and arguing over them is so demeaning.”

Dinah hums and the silence stretches for a few moments.  _ “How come you guys ended up in the bathroom then?” _

“Well, I let her keep the fuckboy because she played low and I don’t know, she knocked me away with her hip or something? It hurt and I almost sprained my ankle so I decided I was done with theatrics and went to the bathroom to fix my makeup.”

Dinah snorts, clearly amused.  _ “And she followed you?” _

“Yes! Why does she do this?”

_ “Didn’t you start this mess?” _

“Shut up, Dinah, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

_ “Okay, okay.” _ Dinah laughs and Camila allows herself a smile. Sometimes, Dinah laughing feels like a warm hug.  _ “So how did you go from competing over a probably underwhelming fuckboy to pulling each other’s hair out?” _

Camila rolls on the bed so she’s lying on her side. “She started being  _ Lauren _ and I slapped her.”

_ “You slapped her?!” _ Dinah’s question sounds like it needs twenty question marks and Camila groans into her pillow.  _ “What the hell, Mila!” _

“I know! I’m sorry!” Camila whimpers. “It’s not like you didn’t know this was coming, you and Mani have stopped me from attacking her several times!”

_ “I’ve never seen you hit anyone!” _

“Technically, you still haven’t—“

_ “Mila,” _ Dinah deadpans. Camila stops.  _ “So not the point. What did she do when you slapped her?” _

“I don’t know.” Camila understands then that she’s not ready to let anyone know about the things she and Lauren have done that they should  _ definitely _ never have done. “There was some screaming and some shoving and some hair-pulling. Some scratching too, I think. It was ugly.” Ugly and degrading and yet somehow still hot. Camila hates herself for the buried-deep part of her that enjoyed it, she feels dirty for it.

_ “Whoa.” _

“Yeah.”

_ “Are you okay?” _

“No,” Camila admits. “I’m embarrassed and humiliated and not proud of myself.” Dinah doesn’t know everything but that she can know. That is true regardless. “And of course you had to go and offer a ride to your new best friend and throw some more salt into my wounds, right, Dinah Jane?”

_ “Sorry about that,” _ Dinah says, with a sharp intake of breath.  _ “I wasn’t aware… of the seriousness of the situation.” _

“It’s fine.” Camila sighs once again. She feels like she’s spent this entire conversation sighing. “That bit only happened because — get this — Lauren’s ride left to drive Mani home.”

_ “Say what now?” _

“That’s right, my friend,” Camila teases, almost wheezing. “That Hernandez creature left Lauren behind to give Mani a ride. I can’t even.”

_ “Shut _ up _!” _ Dinah squeals and Camila giggles.  _ “Alright, Mila, I love you but I got another phone call to make.” _

“Tell me what you find out once you’re done, please.”

_ “I will,” _ Dinah promises, very solemnly.  _ “Can I tell her about your fight with Lauren?” _

“Yes, please. Save me the trouble of ever mentioning it again.”

Dinah snickers,  _ “Good luck with that.” _

“Bye, China.” She hangs up without further delay, and laughs when she sees Dinah’s ‘love ya 2 bish’ text a few seconds later.

Camila shifts to face the ceiling, thinking of her conversation with Dinah. Waking up to an excited Sofi had taken her mind off of the previous night’s events, but Dinah had brought them all back.

She had had sex with Lauren.  _ Again _ .

She hadn’t wasted time thinking about that first time, excusing it as a weak moment of drunkenness. Alcohol couldn’t be used as a motive this time, not on her end. And yet she’d still ended up facing some sort of flat surface in an almost public setting, with her back to Lauren, getting fucked from behind like a cheap lay.

Camila frowns at the memory. Lauren is… attractive, and she knows how to please a girl. Her orgasms had been pretty good both times. It’s just that the tension and viciousness surrounding the whole bathroom situation leave her with a bitter taste in her mouth and she doesn’t quite know  _ why _ she would subject herself to that.

What is it about Lauren that messes with all her sense of self?

She can’t put her finger on it. She has never been very good at processing without externalizing, her thoughts always floating in her mind but never quite within grasp. Jumping out of her bed, Camila opens one of the many notebooks lying around on her desk and writes down  **LAUREN** at the top of a page, with black ink and way more forcefully than necessary, lines careless and rough around the edges.

It’s about time she was honest with herself.

The list includes some of the following items:

  * ANNOYING!!!!!!!!!!
  * knows that it bothers me when she gets all up my personal space
  * doesn’t back down from a fight (to a ridiculously extreme degree)
  * honestly unfairly intelligent like smh
  * no really when she goes on rants in AP Lit my brain sings
  * hums when she’s doing schoolwork
  * has a tattoo (maybe more??)
  * supposed to be good at soccer (who cares)
  * clearly _NOT_ a heterosexual
  * the skin on her chest looks so soft I feel like touching it all the time and it’s a Struggle™
  * my skin tingles for hours after she touches me
  * her belly is kinda chubby and it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen
  * runs her hand through her hair when she feels self-conscious
  * shakes her right leg when she’s nervous
  * generally terrible at social media
  * gets unreasonably upset with camren jokes according to Dinah
  * is not creative at all when it comes to online insults
  * is a little better at them live but is still too crass and basic for my taste
  * swears a lot
  * stares at me from afar a lot (and seems annoyed when I don’t stare back???)
  * eyebrow game on point (also eyes?? whoa)
  * when she’s around it’s hard to focus on anything else
  * looks sexy when she’s bored
  * looks even sexier when she’s mad
  * the moment she kisses me I lose all self-control
  * actually I don’t have any self-control when she’s around (I can’t believe I hit her!!!!)
  * doesn’t give a damn and acts like I’m a pillow porn star
  * can’t even look me in the eyes when she fucks me????



By the time it’s done, the list has exactly 42 items. Camila had written 37 in a row but when she counted them and noted she was almost at 42, she found five things to add without much trouble. If she’s trying to understand what the hell is happening with her and Lauren, or with them separately, might as well employ the help of The Answer to the Meaning of Life, the Universe, and Everything.

Camila rereads the list exactly once and the only reason she doesn’t throw the notebook across the room in a fit of rage is because she chooses to use her strength to grip it so tightly her nails dig through the page instead.

It’s the last thing she would wish on herself or on anyone she loves, but the list makes her realize three things:

  1. _Shit._ She is attracted to Lauren Jauregui.
  2. She is _angry_ at Lauren for everything that had happened in the club and even though she’s 100% the reason why the damned girl treats her the way she does, she still hates it. _Loathes_ it.
  3. There is no way in hell she can go on like this.



This has to end.

 

* * *

 

Monday is the easiest day to stick to her new plan at school. Camila doesn’t have homeroom or AP Lit so with any luck she won’t even have to see Lauren.

Of course, luck can’t be on her side — not when it comes to this — and their paths cross in the hallway when she’s heading to her History class with Dinah and Normani.

It feels like a cheesy movie scene to Camila. They lock eyes with each other and everything else becomes background, time seems to slow down and her heartbeat rings loud in her ears. She replaces it by singing Ugly Kid Joe’s  _ Hate Everything About You _ inside her head. Lauren is walking in her direction, her group of losers chatting behind her, and Camila holds her head high and tries not to forget how to breathe.

Lauren mouths ‘pillow princess’ once she’s two feet away, a taunting smirk brightening up her face, and it takes all of Camila’s willpower to not react in any way, not even to roll her eyes. She just tears her gaze away, expressionless, turning to smile at Normani.

She doesn’t look, but she feels Lauren’s eyes burning a hole in her back.

 

 

On Tuesday, Camila has a free period because her Psychology teacher had called in sick that morning, and she uses it to go to the library and get some work done. She finds her favorite corner and perches down on the couch, taking off her shoes so she can tuck her feet near the couch’s arm as she sits with her legs to the side.

Getting the History article from yesterday’s class out of her bag, Camila places it on her lap and starts reading the unnecessarily big handout, hands busy with braiding her hair.

Obviously, it  _ is _ too much to ask to be left alone for the entire period, and after a while has passed, she feels someone blowing hot air on her neck and prays that the shiver that ran down her spine doesn’t manifest itself with goosebumps on her skin.

“I knew I’d find you here.”

Lauren. Who else.

She doesn’t reply.

“Do you actually know how to do something that isn’t studying or working when you’re at school?” Lauren asks. She doesn’t sound mean or mocking for once, more curious than anything else.

Camila ponders an answer but she isn’t interested in a conversation. She flicks the page in a calm, calculated gesture.

“Cat got your tongue, Cabello?” Lauren materializes in front of her and Camila is almost startled. She hadn’t heard her moving.

They stare at each other for a moment but Camila isn’t interested in staring contests either.

“Lauren,” she says, surprising herself with the use of the name and the coldness of her tone. Lauren’s eyes widen the tiniest bit. “I have—” she makes a show of picking up her phone to unlock the screen, “—18 minutes to finish reading this article because I have plans with my family tonight and I won’t have time to do it later. Was there anything you needed?”

Lauren looks like a deer caught in headlights. “N-no,” she stutters, pulling at the hem of the uniform’s skirt with one hand, a frown etched on her face.

Camila wonders if she’s just going to stand there, or maybe sit on the other couch. It’s none of her business either way, so she returns her attention to the article.

She doesn’t hear Lauren leaving.

 

 

On Wednesday, everything gets a little bit harder. It would be fine if she was on her own so she could just pretend nothing is happening, but of course Camila doesn’t get that luxury.

Dinah Jane Hansen isn’t helping  _ at all _ .

“Mila, please, are you seriously not gonna do anything about  _ this _ ?”

She shows her a twitter thread where one of Lauren’s rebels had gone on a long-winded rant about everything Camila has done wrong in her life. Lauren, predictably, had retweeted it.

That last tidbit hurts somewhere in a place she can’t name, but she doesn’t focus on that.

“Most of these are blatant lies!” Dinah practically screams, scrolling down with disgust written all over her face. “They can’t get away with just making shit up!”

Camila shrugs and brings the soup spoon to her mouth. She really doesn’t want to talk about this.

“Let me see,” Normani says, stealing Dinah’s phone from out of her hands. She scrolls up and down for a few moments, and wrinkles her nose in disapproval. “This is nasty.”

“Will you two calm down?” Camila asks, clenching her free fist with frustration. “We’re in the cafeteria. I already have enough on my plate without needing to worry about whoever runs that stupid gossip twitter listening in on my conversations and spreading more misinformation online.”

“Camila, you have got to be kidding me,” Dinah growls, a vein popping on her neck.

She appreciates the loyalty, she truly does.

“ _ Camila used to bully Claire Reid and call her fat and that’s why she became anorexic _ ,” Normani reads, eyes open wide. “Girl, this is serious stuff. You’re not a saint, but I’ve never seen you attack any girl for the way she looks.”

“Because that’s not something I do. I don’t even know who Claire Reid is.” Camila hides her face behind her hands and groans. “Just drop it.  _ Please _ .”

“Drop it?” Dinah asks, grabbing her phone back. “Where’s the Camila that fights with tooth and nail for what is hers and what she believes in?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, fighting against Lauren has only brought attention to  _ her _ !” Camila snaps, lips curling with spite. Dinah and Normani stop all their movements, shocked at the venom in her voice. She sees their expressions and regrets her outburst. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, with a deep breath.

“I just don’t get it,” Dinah says, putting the phone down to give Camila her full attention. Normani places a hand on her thigh, her usual calming gesture. “You’re just gonna let them drag your name through the mud like this?”

“Look, you’re welcome to defend me if you want,” Camila explains, hand moving to hold on to Dinah’s wrist. “Actually, I’d appreciate that a lot. You are a queen of social media in your own right. But please respect that I no longer want to be a part of this defamation-style campaign.”

“But—“

“Yes, I was the one who started it, I’m aware.” She sighs. “And as we can see by the latest, probably biased, definitely amateur polls on twitter and on Zayn’s blog, Lauren has a very good shot at becoming student body president. I played myself.”

“What about the campaign video for homeroom?” Normani asks, with a squeeze. It makes Camila smile. “You realize that this means Lauren’s video will be attacking you, right?”

“That’s her problem. My video is about what matters to me and what is important to the school.”

Dinah shakes her head, clearly displeased with the state of affairs. “I don’t know what happened to make you change your approach, but I don’t like it.”

“China—”

“It’s fine, I’ll do your job for you.” Dinah smirks, and punches Camila’s arm lightly. “I love making Lauser suffer in soccer practice anyway.”

 

 

Camila should have known following through with her plan would demand more than her determination. She had considered the external factors and the interference of other people, but she had failed to take into account how much said people would try and push her over the edge.

It’s now Thursday and she’s sitting next to Normani for homeroom. Their school is weird and they only have homeroom twice a week, Tuesdays and Thursdays for first period. She’s acutely aware of how everyone keeps staring at her, not due to today being the day the campaign videos are being shown to the whole class — on an intellectual level, Camila knows that the videos won’t change most people’s feelings about the election and their preferred candidates —, but because Lauren and her are in the same homeroom. She hasn’t participated in any of this week’s drama so people expect to see her finally showing some sort of reaction.

As if she’d ever get into a very public fight with Lauren for the world to enjoy.

So far, she’s doing great.

Her video had been played first and she’s quite proud of it. She’d found a charity the school was willing to support and she’d gone through a few proposals for events that could mix entertainment with fundraising. She’d tackled students’ more pressing needs like the quality and old age of the gym’s equipment or how the air conditioning in the West Wing of the third floor hasn’t worked all year and  _ this is Miami _ . The video had ended with a montage of a few people explaining why they’d be voting for her. She’d deliberately excluded Normani and Dinah from that section since everyone knows they’re friends and no one would take that seriously even if both girls are as popular as, if not more popular than, Camila is. Her target audience hadn’t been the popular kids though — those votes are already hers.

It isn’t the most special video in the world, but Camila is proud of it. She’s proud of the work she’d put into it and the songs she’d picked and the flawless editing she’d managed thanks to Harold’s help. Most of all, she’s proud of how there isn’t a single mention of Lauren or her campaign, and of how the video represents how much she cares for the school, what she’s done for it and how she can do even more if she’s allowed.

Camila has always worked more for the good of the school than is required of her, first as class president in her freshman and sophomore years and then as class president  _ and _ student body president in her junior year. It’s her way of giving back for how the student body pretty much worships the ground she walks on.

Ms. Diaz turns the lights on, the class claps and Camila beams. Normani finds her hand on the table, lacing their fingers together.

Lauren claps too, a slow, forced clap that makes Camila’s blood boil. Normani notices.

She always does.

“You did good, Mila,” she says, forehead resting against Camila’s ear. “I’m so proud of you.”

Camila smiles softly and Lauren looks back then, her expression hard to read. A mix of challenge and regret.

Ms. Diaz collects Lauren’s flash key and switches the lights off again.

The video starts playing and it’s… not as bad for her as Camila had thought. It’s well-edited, flowing well and in a captivating pace that keeps people interested in it. There’s nothing pragmatic in the video, no suggestions or proposed actions. It’s just a collection of school moments, snippets from sports to classes to events, with Lauren’s voice preaching about ideals of education and camaraderie over an instrumental song that crescendos together with the inspirational message of hope. From a merely technical standpoint, it’s better than her own, more effective even, and Camila makes a mental note to find a more stylish nerd to help her out the next time she needs a video of this type.

She’s about to sigh in relief when Lauren appears on the screen, and the song melts into something else, the volume dropping to an hypnotic background beat. Lauren’s not wearing her school uniform, just some cute white t-shirt that can barely be seen because the shot is so intimate it’s basically just her face. Her makeup is minimal. The light of the shot, together with the music, almost make it seem like she’s an angel instead of a person. Someone worthy of attention and care.

Someone beautifully dangerous.

Camila knows she’s screwed. She holds Normani’s hand so firmly the girl next to her breathes out a whimper.

Lauren, the Lauren on the screen, smiles.

_ “This is me. This is who I am. I believe in humanity and in love and I don’t want to be alone in that belief. I want everyone here, boys and girls and queer folk alike, of all different genders, races, religions, classes, sexualities, you name it  _ — _ to feel safe and loved in this school. I want everyone to have their feelings considered and their voices heard. _

_ “I want this ridiculous high school hierarchy to be burned to the ground so no one has to fear retaliations for not following these absurd social rules that only benefit the few. _

_ “I want to dismantle the walls of this privileged castle and build bridges we can all cross together, and I want you all to do that with me. _

_ “But first there is something you need to do for me.” _

Camila inhales sharply, ignoring the concerned looks Normani is giving her. The Lauren in the screen seems to be staring straight at her, straight into the soul of everyone who’s watching.

_ “I want  _ you _ to help me take down the Queen.” _

The video fades to black and there’s an instant of tense silence before the class starts clapping and hollering just the tiniest bit louder than they had done for Camila.

Lauren doesn’t react, not overtly anyway, and neither does Camila. She should clap but she can’t move.

It’s good that the classroom remains in the dark for a few more moments and that they’re sitting in the last row. Safe enough from prying eyes.

“Mila, please,” Normani whispers into her hair. “You’re okay. Listen to me. I’m here. You’re okay.”

Normani keeps holding Camila’s hand and her other hand settles on her thigh and squeezes in rhythmic motions. The sweet nothings don’t stop, they tickle her ear and so Camila focuses on them, tries to decipher what they mean over the sound of the drumming noise inside her head.

Everything else ceases to be real.

“Breathe, baby. Breathe. I’m here. I love you.”

The words are so far away and she tries to chase them, make them meaningful, but they turn to dust around her.

“Don’t look ahead, baby, they’re not paying attention to us now. Look at my hands.” Camila gets that and does as she’s told. “Look at our hands and how they fit together. What color are my nails?”

Camila doesn’t reply but she knows the answer. She inhales, exhales. And repeat.

“They’re purple, you picked the color this week,” Normani continues, in the same hushed, gentle tone. “Look at the scar on my thumb. Remember how I got that? Dinah was mad at me when we were kids and she pushed me off the swing. It was the first time I saw you yelling at her.”

Camila’s lips twist up and her eyes, bright with unshed tears, meet Normani’s.

“Come back to me, baby,” Normani says, gaze soft and kind. Camila does find her way back, heart still loud and mighty. “I love you. I love you. You’re okay. I love you.”

“I’m scared, Mani.”

“I know, honey. But I’m here, okay? Whatever happens, I’m always here.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Girl.” Normani laughs, and her hair flips cutely with the movement. “You stayed all night with me in the hospital when my parents had the car accident. You knew I always wanted to be a cheerleader and pretty much forced me to practice the application routine every day until I became one. We deserve each other.”

“And Dinah.”

“And Dinah.” Normani nods. “Clique that suffers together stays together for life.”

Camila smiles, eyes never leaving Normani’s. “I love you.”

“I know.” Normani winks and then her expression turns solemn. Camila never has to say anything for Normani to  _ know _ . “And if there’s anything you need to talk about, I’ll listen. Okay?”

“I’m not ready.”

“Whenever you are, baby.” Camila buries her head in Normani’s shoulder and breathes in her sweet scent. She wants to stay like this forever, comforted by the blanket of warmth and safety that is her friend. “Whenever you are.”

 

 

“Can I talk to you?” Camila asks, standing by Lauren’s table after the bell rings and most people have left homeroom already.

“You choose now to stop ignoring me?” Lauren sneers. Camila shouldn’t, but she’s surprised Lauren had noticed. “What do you want, Cabello?”

“Not here.”

“Right.” Lauren rolls her eyes and finishes packing her bag before fixing the strap on her shoulder and looking up at Camila. “Lead the way, princess.”

Camila cringes at the jest but remains silent, walking through the hallways and staircases with Lauren in tow. She stops in front of a door next to the auditorium in the ground floor, searching for a set of keys in her bag.

“Wait, you have a key to a room in the school?”

“It’s the meeting room for the student council,” Camila explains as she opens the door and gestures for Lauren to come inside. She wants to tell Lauren this key will likely be hers in a matter of weeks, but she refrains.

As soon as the door closes behind them, Camila senses it. The tension that makes itself known every time she and Lauren are alone together. It’s somehow more disconcerting now that she can see it for what it is.

She’s sure Lauren feels it too. She catches her staring at her lips and there might even be a slight blush on the other girl’s face when she realizes she’s been caught. Lauren clears her throat, fingers tapping on her thighs. “Why did you bring me here?”

Camila takes one step forward so she’s only two feet away from Lauren. “I’m sorry I slapped you.” Lauren widens her eyes, her jaw dropping, and Camila proceeds before she loses her courage, “It doesn’t matter how angry I was and how provoked I felt, by hitting you I crossed a line that should  _ never _ have been crossed. It won’t happen again.”

Lauren swallows and stares at her for a long moment, like she’s figuring out if this is some sort of trick. Camila feels uncomfortable under her gaze.

“Okay,” Lauren finally says. “Is that all?”

“No,” Camila admits in a sigh. “Is that what you think of me?”

“What do you mean?” Lauren furrows her brows, confused, and Camila’s heart hurts with how she looks so unfairly beautiful even like that.

“Is that what you think of me?” she tries again, satisfied when her voice comes out formal and severe. “Do you think I’m some sort of racist, sexist and homophobic dictator that arrived at this school and forced everyone to be at their beck and call? That I’m the reason this school is the way it is?”

“Was I supposed to think something else?” Lauren cocks an eyebrow, defiant. “The first time you talked to me, you wanted me to abandon Ally and join the  _ successful students _ .” She does air quotes as she finishes speaking and Camila scowls.

“Fair,” she concedes. “So you believe in everything people say about me?”

“Define everything.”

Camila rolls her eyes. “I bully girls because of how they look, I give wedgies to freshmen, I got Cheryl Cole kicked out of school because I was jealous of her and Liam, the list goes on.”

Lauren crosses her arms, holding Camila’s gaze. They stay silent for a long moment until Lauren speaks, “I don’t understand what’s your angle here, Bows. What do you want me to say?” She sighs, uncrossing her arms. “You do remember all you’ve done to me since I got here, yes?”

“Whatever I did was in direct response to whatever  _ you _ did to me,” Camila huffs. Fascinating how being around Lauren makes her lose her temper in a heartbeat.

“Oh, because crashing a party or sitting at a different table for lunch is on the same level of fuckery as leaking my personal photos and poisoning motherfucking cupcakes?” Lauren snarls, and Camila can see the anger burning in her eyes. “Give me a fucking break, Cabello! You’re a tyrant and you know it.”

“You have no proof that I did any of that.”

“Incredible,” Lauren mutters, shaking her head. “You’re going to lie about that shit to my face?”

“Do you even see the way you treat me?” Camila counters, frustration rising at maximum speed. She skips over Lauren’s question. She doesn’t want to lie. “You’re always staring, you find me in random places and terrorize me, you keep taunting me and trying to piss me off!” She approaches Lauren, stabbing her chest with her index finger. “Why are you so obsessed with me?!”

“Are you for fucking real?” Lauren starts, cheeks flushed with rage. “ _ I’m _ obsessed with  _ you _ ? You little—”

She never finishes her sentence. She decides to kiss Camila instead.

And Camila can’t believe that this is happening.

Again.

She lets herself go for a minute, hands finding themselves lost in Lauren’s hair as they tend to do when  _ this _ occurs. Their first time kissing after it’s been a while is always the same: electric, magnetic, desperate like they know they shouldn’t be doing this and so this might be the last time. Camila melts with how Lauren always wraps her arms around her waist just a little too tightly, as if she doesn’t want Camila to escape.

It’s what makes pushing her away that little bit harder.

“N-no,” Camila croaks, still panting, palms digging into Lauren’s shoulders until she’s free from her hold.

“What?” Lauren breathes out, green eyes dark with lust. She seems disoriented.

“We need to stop this.”

Lauren stares at her dumbly, and Camila is surprised by her desire to reach out and smooth the lines the frown is putting on Lauren’s forehead.

“I can’t keep doing this.” Camila steps back, eyes darting everywhere. “We can’t stand each other, we shouldn’t be kissing.”

“What? Where is this coming from?”

“You can’t just hate me and then kiss me whenever you get me alone!”

“Get off your high horse, Bows,” Lauren growls through gritted teeth. “Stop pretending you didn’t kiss me first.”

“ _ Once _ , Lauren, and I was drunk!”

“Go ahead, play the alcohol card like it means something.” Lauren scoffs, coming closer so she’s within touching distance again. “I don’t remember you ever trying to stop anything.”

“I’m stopping it now.  _ Please. _ ” Camila wonders if this is a new low for her. Resorting to begging Lauren Jauregui to just… be gone from her life. But she can’t do this anymore — the dissonance between what everyone believes she thinks of Lauren and the way they act towards each other and what Camila truly feels is triggering her anxiety. “Just leave me alone.”

Lauren’s eyes widen for a moment, before she clenches her jaw and her hands curl into fists.

“I promise I’ll stop trying to sabotage your campaign, I won’t tweet about you, I won’t do anything.” There’s a tremor in her voice and Camila swallows it. “Can you please stay away from me?”

“Is that what you want?”

Camila nods, looking down. She doesn’t want to see Lauren’s face right now.

Lauren sighs and walks past her without saying anything. Camila hears the door open and close softly, and feels tears brimming in her eyes that she hurries to wipe with the pads of her fingers.

It’s better this way.

(if she keeps telling herself that, maybe she’ll believe it.)


	13. the AP Lit assignment

Lauren has always been the kind of person who knows exactly what she wants and exactly how to get it. She’s known her dream university since her first day of school when her father bought her an oversized sweater with the words **YALE** printed on the front. Her father was a Yale Alumni and his father before him. It is a story her father loved to tell; how his father came to America as a young, poor immigrant, defied all odds and through hard work and patience landed himself a spot at a prestigious college. The embodiment of the American Dream. It’s now a family legacy and it’s one that Lauren not only wants, but  _ needs _ to honor.

That is the reason she’s currently sitting in the library sweating over her History paper, because she needs  _ top grades _ to get into the Ivy League of her dreams. 

“You’re disruptive,” Ian comments flatly when Lauren heaves the millionth deep, life-tired sigh.

Lauren pushes her thick History book and hundreds of notes to the side and glances at Ian. He’s sitting across from her, his quirky round glasses reflecting the light of the computer screen that he’s intensely focused on. 

Lauren watches him for a moment, impressed by the way his fingers fly across the keyboard with incredible speed without a second of hesitation.

“What are you doing?” she asks curiously, desperate for a distraction.

Ian’s speedy fingers don’t pause as he answers monotonously, “Creating an app.”

Lauren scoffs softly and somewhat fondly, the corners of her lips tugging up in an amused smile. If there’s someone capable of sounding bored and nonchalant while in the middle of being inventive, it would be Ian. He’s a technology nerd and Lauren wouldn’t be surprised if he created some kind of highly functional robot in the future.

By now, she knows Ian well enough to know that he isn’t going to elaborate without prompting. 

So she taps her pen against the table and asks, “What kind?”

She’s met with nothing but the sound of the clicking keyboard and just when she thinks that Ian is going to ignore her, he answers dryly, “The failed kind if you don’t give me room to concentrate.” 

Lauren rolls her eyes and lifts her hand in defeat and follows it with a mocking imitation of closing a zipper across her mouth. Ian barely glances at her.

Luckily, Lauren doesn’t have to look elsewhere for a distraction, because the next second they’re joined by Shaun and Ally.

Lauren hears them before she sees them.

“Lauren!” Ally calls halfway across the library and earns herself a fierce shushing from Miss Vergara. Ally apologizes profusely and waits until she’s close to excitedly shove her phone screen in Lauren’s face,

“Have you seen this?”

“Gossip twitter made  _ another  _ poll to see who people were voting for and this time you’re in the lead!” Shaun tells her before she even gets a chance of making sense of Ally’s screen. He pulls out a chair next to Ian and flings his bookbag onto the table.

“265 people voted?” Lauren says, more interested in that than the fact that  _ “Team Jauregui” _ has pulled 138 compared to  _ “Team Cabello’s” _ 127 votes. “Our senior class is like 250 at the most?”

“The whole  _ school _ is invested in the election drama,” Ally says, and drops down in the seat next to Lauren. She offers Lauren a protein bar — her favorite, the blueberry one — and Lauren gratefully bites into it. “I’ve heard that the freshmen are trying to emulate the drama but for their class presidential campaign.”   

“Especially now that this election drama has turned drier than stale bread,” Shaun says around the red lollipop stuffed in his cheek that leaves his tongue and lips bright red. “They’re failing miserably though, cause they’re trying to fill shoes that are too big. Kinda cute actually.”

Ian abruptly closes his laptop without a word as he seems to come to the conclusion that he won’t get anything productive done now that Ally and Shaun have arrived. He answers Shaun’s  _ ‘hey man’ _ with a curt nod.

“Speaking of stale bread drama,” Ally says slowly, glancing at Lauren. Lauren’s shoulders curl subconsciously, knowing what’s coming. “I got this feeling that this sudden diplomatic and civil silence between you and Camila is the quiet before the storm.”

Lauren rolls her eyes hard when they all turn to look at her curiously — even Ian focuses his bored gaze on her — as if she’s going to reveal more about the sudden radio silence between her and Camila the last couple of weeks than she already has. It appears that was the expectation if the looks on their faces are any indication, when Lauren repeats what she’s been saying every time they asked, “I don’t have time for petty drama.”

It isn’t entirely a lie since she’s juggling school and soccer and the campaign and all the other extracurricular activities she’s doing, but  _ then again _ , that hadn’t stopped her before.

The actual truth is that things have changed irrevocably between them.

In retrospect, their dynamic has been shifting ever since they hooked up the first time and took a sharp left turn after the second hookup.

Lauren doesn’t know what happened. 

All Lauren knows is there’s a heavy unexplainable weight on her chest whenever she remembers the look in Camila’s eyes when she told her to leave her alone. And for once Lauren has forced herself to examine her feelings rather than sweeping them under the rug. 

She finally acknowledges that she’s sexually attracted to Camila, maybe even intellectually, if that’s a thing — Lauren isn’t sure, the only thing she’s sure of is that she admires the way Camila’s mind works. 

Lauren has tried to appear unbothered, busying herself with soccer and school and family, but it’s been  _ two weeks _ ; she can no longer ignore the unsettling feeling of something  _ missing. _

Lauren is pulled from her thoughts by Shaun’s snicker, “I’m surprised they even know the library exists.”

Lauren follows his gaze and sees Liam, Finn and a third jock entering the library obnoxiously, as if they are on the soccer field. They’re quickly shut down by an exasperated Miss Vergara.

Liam catches sight of them and stops as he makes eye contact with Lauren. His lips split in his trademark crinkly-eyed boyish smile as he waves at her. Lauren returns the gesture with her own smile.

Upon turning her gaze back on her friends, she finds them staring at her.

“What?” she asks with a raised brow and takes a big bite off her delicious protein bar.

“What was  _ that _ ?” Ally whispers fiercely, gaze ping-ponging from Lauren to Liam.

Lauren shrugs. “Nothing? I was just saying hi.”

“That didn’t seem like nothing,” Shaun mutters under his breath, but Lauren hears.

She narrows her eyes at him. “What are you implying?”

“Nothing,” Shaun answers with a sweet smile.

“Ally?” Lauren gives Ally an inquiring look.

“Just be careful,” Ally says. “That’s C’s ex and you already know how starved this school is for drama. They’ll run with literally anything.”

Lauren sighs heavily and sinks back in her chair. 

“They’re gonna do their thing no matter what I do,” she grumbles. “I might just live my life the way I want and not give a flying fuck about their judgmental asses.”

With that, she pulls her History book close and buries her face in between its stale, old pages, effectively ending the conversation there.

 

 

Lauren is rushing down the hall on her way to the last class of the day when she catches sight of a familiar someone walking a few feet ahead. It’s Camila, and Lauren subconsciously slows down so she doesn’t catch up to her. Camila has her signature bow nestled on the top of her head, her straightened out hair swaying gracefully all the way down to the small of her back — just above her bum that’s clad in a pair of tight wrapped jeans and honestly, Lauren  _ struggles _ to keep from staring as she vehemently ignores the familiar tingly sensation in her fingertips.

Whoever thought of casual Fridays for a fancy private high school was a fucking jerk.

“Wow, Cabello has the greatest ass,” Lauren hears some sophomore boy say to his friends.

“Yeah, I would give  _ anything _ to hit it from behind,” his friend responds and is met with a chorus of agreement.

Lauren’s fingers furl into tight fists and she’s almost surprised by the strong burning sensation in her throat. She dismisses it as her being generally disgusted by teenage boys and their objectification of girls — it doesn’t occur to her that she might have been doing the same thing.

As Camila reaches the class, she looks over her shoulder and Lauren nearly falters in her steps when Camila pauses and looks directly at her. It lasts for about two seconds, and for those two seconds, Lauren thinks she’s going to say something to her. However, Camila turns away and walks into the class, leaving Lauren with something that feels like disappointment settling heavy in her chest.

Lauren finds a seat in the back of the class and focuses all her attention on Mr. Keating to avoid thinking about why she feels so disheartened. Towards the end of the class, Mr. Keating introduces the AP Lit project that will count towards 20% of their final grade. Lauren had already read everything there was to know about it the other night and is zoning out until Mr. Keating announces that he’s going to pair them off in groups.

“I’ve uploaded the document of the group arrangements,” he says. “You can find it in the  _ Literature Written Assignment _ folder.”

Lauren immediately gets this foreboding feeling curling tight in the pit of her stomach and when she clicks open the document and finds her name along with her partner’s name, that foreboding crawls all the way up to her throat, threatening to choke her. She stares at it without blinking for a few seconds as if the name of her partner will change the harder she stares. It doesn’t; it stays right there next to her own name with big, black letters.

**LAUREN JAUREGUI AND CAMILA CABELLO**

_ Camila Cabello. _

Lauren only lifts her face from her computer screen when she hears the class muttering in that way she’s become all too familiar with. She can’t see Camila’s reaction as she’s sitting in front of her, all she can see is the stiffness in her shoulders.

Camila lifts her hand high up in the air. “Excuse me, Mr. Keating!” she calls, and the murmurs die down. Once Mr. Keating’s attention is on her, Camila continues, “I don’t think this group arrangement is going to work for me.”

The whole class turns to look at Lauren, excited for her reaction, salivating at the potential reignition of drama. Lauren struggles to keep her face neutral as she refuses to give them that satisfaction.

Mr. Keating raises a brow, glancing from Camila to Lauren. “What seems to be the problem, Ms. Cabello?”

Camila slowly lowers her hand and wraps it around the other one in front of her on the table.

“The problem...” she says, treading carefully with her wording, “is that Jauregui and I aren’t compatible. I think it would serve us best if we weren’t paired together.”

Mr. Keating looks unamused. “Have you and Ms. Jauregui previously worked together, Ms. Cabello?”

Camila falters. “No, but—”

“How do you know you aren’t compatible then?” Mr. Keating interrupts. 

Camila doesn’t respond immediately and Lauren’s toes curl as she can physically  _ feel _ the whole class holding their breath.

When Camila finally speaks, it’s so quiet that the only reason Lauren hears her is because of the dead silence of the class. 

"We… don’t exactly share a friendly past.”

“Then this assignment will be the perfect opportunity for you to find a way to work past whatever disagreement the two of you have,” Mr. Keating responds.

“But—” Camila tries but is cut off by an impatient Mr. Keating,

“You can’t change partners, Ms. Cabello, and that’s final!” he says, and when it looks like Camila is going to interject, he adds, “Unless you prefer to lose that 20% of your grade?”

That quickly shuts Camila down and she sinks defeated in her seat.

Mr. Keating nods. “Good. Now there’s ten minutes left of the class. Use that to go into your groups and discuss future plans and  expectations of each other.”

The classroom is filled with the sounds of chairs scraping and chattering as everyone finds their partner. Lauren doesn’t move as she stares at the back of Camila’s head. When it becomes obvious that Camila has no intention of acknowledging her, Lauren takes a deep breath and approaches.

She stands in front of Camila’s desk and Camila slowly lifts her gaze to hers.

“Look, neither of us is happy about this,” Lauren says and Camila scoffs softly, crossing her arms, “but I think we both can agree we want top grades on this. So let’s just suck this up and make the best of the situation.”

Camila lowers her gaze and briefly worries her bottom lip between her teeth.

“You better not drag me down, Jauregui.”

Lauren rolls her eyes hard. “ _ Please _ , we both know we’re the best in this class. If we don’t  _ nail _ this, then it’s probably because of your refusal to cooperate.”

Camila sits up straighter. “I’m going to cooperate,” she insists, offended. “If I don’t keep up my GPA, I will have no chance of getting into Harvard.”

“You want to go to Harvard?” Lauren asks before she can stop herself.

Camila eyes her cautiously and brushes her hair behind her back. 

“Yes, of course. It’s been my goal since I could remember.”

Lauren isn’t surprised that Camila is applying for an Ivy League; she’s just more curious and interested than she’d like to admit about the fact that Harvard is Camila’s priority. She wonders if the motivation behind that choice is anything similar to Lauren’s.

“Then we both got a lot to lose,” Lauren declares. “So what do you say we put our differences aside and  _ kick _ this assignment’s butt?”

Camila rolls her eyes but Lauren thinks she spots a ghost of a smile.

“That’s a deal, Jauregui.”

“Good,” Lauren says and pulls a vacant chair closer, taking a seat across from Camila. “I think our expectations of each other are pretty clear, so we can move ahead to planning the best way to tackle this assignment.”

Camila nods and glances briefly at her computer screen. “We aren’t going to get much time to work on it during class — far from enough to achieve the grades we want. So we have to work after school hours. ”

“Let me just grab my calendar,” Lauren says and rises to her feet, fishing her leather bound calendar out of her bag.

“I didn’t know anyone our age still used that,” Camila says when Lauren returns. She turns her screen to Lauren and Lauren isn’t surprised by how booked it is, “This little Google calendar program is pretty neat  _ and _ you can color organize it. You should join the future, Lauren.”

The way the words roll off Camila’s tongue comes off more as playful teasing rather than mockery and it makes Lauren smile.

“Whatever.  I like being a little old school,” she says and flips through her calendar. “I can after soccer practice on Monday… around 5 pm?”

Camila checks her calendar and shakes her head. “I can’t. My little sister has a softball game. Wednesday?”

“Nah,” Lauren says, “I’ve got a charity thing.”

Camila eyes her curiously and looks like she’s going to ask for a moment. Lauren doesn’t realize she’d been hoping Camila would until she feels something akin to disappointment when she doesn’t.

“What about Tuesday?” Lauren asks.

“Then it’ll have to be at six because I have a thing before it,” Camila says.

“Six works for me. We can do it at my place. The family will be out so we’ll have it to ourselves.”

Lauren doesn’t realize how it sounds until Camila freezes and a sudden awkwardness descends over them. 

“Um… we can also go to your place, you know, whatever you want… I don’t… I don’t care.” Lauren is embarrassed by how she stumbles over her words and uncomfortable by how rigidly Camila is staring at her computer screen.

Camila clears her throat.

“No,” she says without lifting her gaze from the screen, clicking away on it. “It’s fine. My dad is having his business associates over so... your place is better. “

Lauren nods slowly. “So, Tuesday 6 pm at my place?”

Camila nods in response.

“I’ll text you the address, so you can find—”

“I know where you live, Lauren,” Camila cuts her off with a pointed look.

“Oh… yeah, that’s true,” Lauren trails off as they’re once again consumed by an uncomfortable energy.  Lauren doesn’t know if she should attempt to disperse it and possibly make it worse or if she should just leave.

The bell rings and saves her.

She rises to her feet, “I’ll see you on Tuesday,” and returns to her seat to pack up her things.

 

 

Lauren lives in a constant conflicting state of apprehension and anticipation the days leading up to Camila and her’s ‘study date’. She does an amazing job of ignoring the mixture of feelings right up until the actual day. She heads home straight after school to make sure everything is clean and presentable, especially her embarrassingly messy room.

Camila arrives not a minute early or late but  _ right _ on time and Lauren is impressed by her punctuality.

When she opens the door, Camila is standing on the other side of it, clad in an oversized jean jacket, thrown over a printed summer dress. Lauren stops her gaze from following the length of her exposed legs.

“Hey,” she says nonchalantly. “Right on time. Come in.”

She makes room for her and Camila steps inside cautiously, looking around.

Lauren closes the door. “My room is upstairs,” she says and takes the lead. 

Camila looks around her room briefly with a disinterested gaze and Lauren is surprised by the slight disappointment she feels at the silence; she’d expected at least some snarky comment from her.

“Let’s get this over with. I have a couple of hours before I have to leave.”

“That should be enough, we’re mostly outlining a plan today,” Lauren says with a nod and gestures Camila to take a seat by her desk in the corner, big enough for the both of them if they sit on opposite sides.

It’s a little awkward and stilted as they take their seats and pull out their notes — once again, the majority of Lauren’s AP Literature notes are written messily into notebooks while Camila’s are color-coded, neatly organized on her computer — until Lauren finds her copy of  _ A Thousand Splendid Suns  _ and says, “Okay, I have a few thoughts about the assignment already, and I think it would be interesting if we tackle the ongoing theme of hope and oppression in the book.”

Camila listens patiently to her, but the second she’s done, she shakes her head. “Education of women is a more broad and interesting theme. We can’t write a 15 page assignment on hope and oppression alone.”

Lauren’s left eye twitches. “Yes, we can,” she argues. “It’s literally the  _ main theme  _ of the whole book.”

“That’s debatable,” Camila says, and clicks open a document on her computer, skimming it quickly. “The difference in the women’s educational upbringing shapes who they become as adults.”

“But this whole novel revolves around the different places people find their individual hope while dealing with political and personal oppression—”

“Mariam finds her hope through Mullah Faizullah when he agrees to educate her,” Camila interrupts sharply, “Layla finds her freedom through her educational upbringing.”

As Lauren and Camila stare each other down, Lauren comes to a sudden realization: this feels a whole lot like a battle to be in control and both Camila and her are equally stubborn. If there’s going to be any hope of them getting  _ anywhere _ today, one of them has to give in or at least suggest a compromise.

Camila has this steely, defiant look in her eyes that makes it clear that Lauren is the one who has to swallow her pride.

She takes a deep breath and lowers her gaze. “I can see your standpoint on things. How about we focus on the  _ “Education of women and the hope and oppression they find through it”, _ or something?”

Camila’s gaze seems to soften and she clicks away on her computer, nodding. “‘ _ Education of women: hope and oppression’ _ sounds better.”

Lauren bites down hard on the inside of her cheek to keep down the snarky response crawling up her throat.

“Right,” she says. “Moving on…”

After agreeing on an overall theme, the rest goes almost smoothly, except for a few bumps along the way. They overcome them quickly when Lauren swallows her pride twice and Camila finally sacrifices hers on the third bump. Once they start getting comfortable and fall into a rhythm, it becomes apparent how  _ well _ they work together; how much their thoughts and analysis of things are in harmony on some points and how much they learn from each other at others.

Towards the end of the first hour, Lauren’s guard comes down and she finds herself listening intently to Camila as she talks passionately about the characters’ ties to their homeland and how much she relates to that, not even realizing the adoration shining through the soft smile on her lips and the crinkles at the corner of her eyes.

At some point, Lauren ends up watching the way Camila’s pink lips move rather than the words they’re forming. Until they’re forming her name, ripping her out of her apparent trance.

“ _ Lauren _ ?”

Lauren’s eyes immediately snap up to Camila’s, and judging by the look in them, she’s been caught.

Lauren doesn’t know what to say and just stares into Camila’s eyes and Camila stares right back. There’s a sudden charged energy between them, Lauren can almost  _ hear  _ the electricity crackling.

Camila’s tongue swipes across her bottom lip and Lauren helplessly follows the motion. She’s overcome with a sudden, powerful urge to kiss Camila and she abruptly rises to her feet and heads towards the door, stuttering, “I’ll, uh… I’ll get us something to drink… Do you want anything in particular? I think we have lemonade and soda?”

Lauren barely waits for Camila’s quiet, “Water is fine”, before she runs out of the door.

She dives straight into the nearest bathroom and splashes cold water on her burning face. She stares into her reflection and takes several calming breaths.

“Get your shit together,” she tells herself before she dries her face and goes downstairs to fetch some refreshments.

When she returns upstairs with a tray of water and  _ mixtos  _ — a popular Cuban sandwich — Camila is standing by her pinboard, studying a framed photograph in her hand.

She looks up when Lauren enters.

“I guess Yale is your first priority?” she asks, turning the photograph towards Lauren. It’s a photograph of a younger Lauren beaming at the camera with a toothless smile alongside her father in their matching Yale sweatshirt. It’s Lauren’s most prized possession.

Lauren puts the tray down on the table and cautiously approaches Camila.

“Yeah,” Lauren says and looks at the photograph with a soft smile. “It’s kind of a family legacy, I guess.”

“Your father is a Yale Alumni?” Camila asks, impressed. “You’re pretty much guaranteed a spot then.”

Lauren’s heart clenches and she shrugs, taking the photograph from Camila and putting it down on her nightstand. “I guess.”

Camila lifts one of her perfectly shaped brows. “You  _ guess _ ? You must have the greatest connections through him. A recommendation from him would be enough. Speaking of, are you hiding him away from me because you’re afraid I’ll charm him into writing me a recommendation?”

Lauren’s face falls before she can catch it and Camila notices immediately.

“I was just joking, I swear,” she says, blinking wide-eyed. “Families are off limits, I know, and it’s not like we’re friends or anything.” 

Lauren bites down the inside of her cheek and shakes her head. “No, no, I know you were joking,” she says quickly. “It’s not you… It’s…” 

She glances at Camila, who’s looking at her with a slightly confused expression.

“What is it?”

Maybe it’s the way Camila says it — softer than anything she’s ever said to Lauren — or the way she looks at Lauren that makes Lauren wants to share.

“My father passed away,” she breathes out, and at the look of unadulterated guilt on Camila’s face, she adds, “You couldn’t have known.”

Lauren sits on her bed and runs her hand through her hair. She stares at the floor for a few seconds as she fiercely attempts to battle down the sudden emotions bubbling up inside of her. She doesn’t want to appear this vulnerable in front of Camila, but she’s fighting a losing battle.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m…” she trails off and let’s out a forced little chuckle. “I swear I don’t usually break down like this at the tiniest mention of my father. Just give me a minute to collect myself.”

There’s a moment of complete silence where Lauren is convinced Camila is going to leave, but then she moves and the bed creaks underneath her as she settles next to Lauren, almost close enough for their thighs to touch.

Lauren takes a deep breath. “I think it’s just the reminder that I’m sending off my college applications soon and he was so excited for me and he won’t be there,” she exhales and feels the familiar sting in her eyes. “I’m sorry, I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. We should get back to work.”

Lauren is about to get to her feet but a gentle hand on her arm stops her. 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Camila says softly. “I can’t imagine what it feels like to lose a parent.”

Lauren closes her eyes briefly. “I just can’t wait for it to stop hurting.”

Camila doesn’t respond for a moment, just rubs Lauren’s arm with her thumb, in slow, comforting circles.

“Grief is like the ocean,” she says eventually. “It’s a constant. You just have to learn how to swim.”

Lauren lifts her surprised gaze, recognizing those words. “Vicki Harrison?”

Camila smiles and wrinkles her nose. “A horrible misquotation, I know.”

“No kidding, I’m pretty sure you skipped a substantial part of it,” Lauren says with a soft huff, but her lips part into an amused grin the next second. Camila’s smile widens until she’s doing that smile with her tongue poking out between her teeth and Lauren feels like everything in the world is going to be alright.

They sit there, grinning like idiots at each other for a few seconds, then Lauren’s grin fades into something softer and she whispers, “Thank you.”

Camila’s features soften as well and she does a small  _ ‘no problem’ _ shrug. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, shifting in the process and their hands brush. And it’s so  _ ridiculously _ cheesy but suddenly they’re enveloped by that strange fizzling tension once again and Lauren’s heart pounds in her chest.

They stare at each other and Camila’s gaze drops to Lauren’s mouth for a split second. Lauren can’t hear anything over the sound of her blood rushing in her ears and her body acts alone as it leans in. She  _ hears _ Camila’s breath catch and she’s  _ so close _ , until she gets half her mind back and flinches away.

She turns her face away and swallows thickly. “I’m sorry—”

The apology has barely left her mind before Camila presses two fingers against Lauren’s jaw and turns her face back towards her. Lauren stares at her wide-eyed, holding her breath, and Camila stares back, looking as unsure as Lauren feels. 

Then Camila closes the distance between them and presses the softest, sweetest kiss into Lauren’s mouth; nothing like their usual aggressive, bruising kisses. It spreads a pleasant tingly warmth from her mouth all the way to her fingertips and toes.

At first, Lauren doesn’t move or breathe, scared that she’ll ruin it and it’ll be over before it even starts. Then Camila pulls back, blinks at her with half-lidded eyes before moving back in, kissing harder, more insistently, her fingers finding their way into Lauren’s hair.

Lauren gets the hint and kisses back and the kiss turns desperate, as if they’ve been starving for air. Camila presses closer, both her hands wound tightly in Lauren’s hair and Lauren’s response is to pull her even closer by the tight grip she has on Camila’s hip.

They part for air, both of them panting thickly, and Lauren only gets a glimpse of Camila’s flushed cheeks and dark eyes before the girl dips her head and kisses her neck. Lauren’s eyes roll in pleasure but she can’t enjoy it when she realizes the door is open.

“Wait,” she breathes and Camila immediately stops. “The door.”

She rises to her feet and closes and locks the door. Her mind gets a chance to catch up to her and she realizes she might be acting presumptuously; just because Camila kissed her doesn’t mean she wants to do anything  _ more _ . She slowly turns to look at Camila who’s staring at her from the bed.

“What are you waiting for, Jauregui?” she says quietly and Lauren doesn’t need any more prompting.

She strides forward and tackles Camila back on the bed, kissing her fiercely.

“ _ Stop _ ,” Camila gasps between the barrages of passionate kisses and Lauren flinches back as if hurt.

“I’m sorry, I thought we were…” She stares down at Camila, mentally berating herself for ruining it.

Camila doesn’t look angry, on the contrary, she’s got a contemplative look on her face. Then she licks her lips, curls her fingers in the fabric of Lauren’s t-shirt and unceremoniously flips their position.

Surprised, Lauren blinks up at Camila, her long hair framing her face, and Lauren has to reach out and brush it out of the way.  She studies Camila’s face, sees something like nervousness in her dark eyes but it is fleeting, quickly replaced with resolve and a teasing little smirk that sends a rush of heat through Lauren.

Camila leans down, teasingly slow, and Lauren has to use every atom of self-control she possesses not to meet her in the middle. When she finally feels Camila’s slick, soft lips, it is all worth it.

Camila kisses her harder, passionately, and Lauren moans, easily opening her mouth for her, letting her control the kiss and surprising herself by how much she is enjoying it.

Lauren fingers crawl up Camila’s thigh, curling at the hem of her dress, and she is about to pull it up but Camila grabs her wrist and forcefully pins it down by Lauren’s head. 

“I’m in control,” Camila breathes against Lauren’s ear, nibbling down her earlobe.

“Holy shit,” Lauren pants, wide-eyed as Camila’s burning mouth moves to her neck, and she never thought she’d be into Camila taking control but if the distinct throbbing between her legs is any indication, she’s  _ definitely _ into it.

Camila pushes her warm fingers under Lauren’s shirt, bringing it up as she strokes Lauren’s burning skin. Lauren lifts her head to help her remove it and as soon as it’s off, Camila pushes her back down into the mattress.

Camila dips her head and kisses along the valley of her breasts while she slowly pulls down the straps, one shoulder at a time. Lauren stifles a moan behind her hand when Camila gets her mouth around a nipple, pushing her fingers into Camila’s hair.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” she mutters softly as Camila runs her tongue over one nipple while her fingers pay attention to the other; and her movements are a bit hesitant, a little clumsy but enthusiastic, and Lauren catches herself thinking she hasn’t experienced anything as simultaneously hot and adorable before.

Lauren lifts her thighs pressing them around Camila to hold her tight and close. Her heart rattles against her ribcage when Camila’s fingers drag down a line from her stomach to her jeans, slowly unbuttoning them. Her fingers linger under the hem of her jeans and Lauren feels her hesitation.

She looks down but the only thing she can see is the top of Camila’s head. She reaches down and carefully cards her fingers through Camila’s hair.

“Hey,” she says softly. “You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with.”

“I want to,” Camila says, lifting her face, a crease of frustration between her brows. “I’ve just never…” she trails off and looks away, seemingly embarrassed.

By now, Lauren knows her and Camila are similar in many ways; they’re both perfectionists and want to be the best at what they’re doing, they don’t tolerate anything less. Lauren is obviously Camila’s first ‘full-on’ lesbian encounter and Camila is obviously feeling insecure about doing something wrong in front of her  _ ‘mortal rival’. _

A few weeks back and Lauren might’ve teased her, maybe even mocked her, but now, she wriggles out of her jeans until she’s left in nothing but a plain pair of boring underwear that makes her feel slightly self-conscious. 

“I’ll show you,” she says as she closes her hand over Camila’s and slowly, gently guides her to the hem of her underwear, gauging Camila’s reaction as their joined hands slip underneath. 

Camila’s eyes widen a little and then she smirks at Lauren. “You’re  _ dripping _ .”

Lauren blushes. “Shut up, do you want me to show you or not?”

“I think I got it, just tell me if I do something wrong,” Camila says and slides her fingers down the slickness, teasing her fingertip against Lauren.

Lauren hisses softly, “Teasing is wrong.”

Camila chuckles. “It wasn’t when  _ you _ were doing it, huh?”

Lauren smiles. “Okay, I deserve that.”

Unsurprisingly, Camila is a quick learner. She fumbles and stumbles in the beginning but with Lauren’s guidance and patience, she works up to  _ three _ fingers inside of Lauren rather quickly. Lauren loses her inhibition even faster and she can’t help the burning in her cheeks when Camila is so intently gauging every single reaction on her face.  They’ve never done it face to face like this, she realizes, and it’s a lot more intimate than she was prepared for.

She’s almost grateful when Camila dips her face into the crook of her neck. Lauren’s fingers have found their way under Camila’s dress and onto her gorgeous bum. Her fingers are immediately met with soft skin and for a moment, her mind short-circuits as she thinks Camila came here wearing no underwear — until she realizes she’s wearing a thong, which honestly is the next best thing.

Lauren fists Camila’s hair and lifts her face so she can hungrily devour her lips and Camila moans into it, causing Lauren to clench around her pumping fingers. 

“I want to feel you,” Lauren pants against Camila’s mouth, and Camila pulls back to look at her questioningly.

“Like this,” Lauren says, and curls her fingers under the thin strap of Camila’s thong, looking at Camila for permission. Camila’s response is to remove her thong herself, discarding it over her shoulder. She sits up straight and slowly pulls her dress off and Lauren lets out a small, helpless sound as she stares at Camila’s nearly naked body.

“C’mere,” she says hoarsely, and reaches for her. Camila clues in quickly and straddles her, lowering herself tortuously slow and once their clits touch, they gasp in unison.

“Oh my  _ God _ ,” Camila positively  _ keens _ and it’s a glorious sight, watching the awe on her face and the way she rolls her hips experimentally, rubbing their sensitive clits together, and Lauren is overwhelmed by the pleasure.

Camila gains confidence and enthusiastically rolls her hips, gripping Lauren’s thighs for support. The wet sound of their pussies rubbing together coupled with their moans is  _ obscene _ .

The intense pleasure brings Lauren to the edge alarmingly fast and brings forth tiny whimpers and high pitched keens; sounds Lauren hadn’t known she was capable of making.

“You’re killing me,” she groans, and sounds almost pained.

Camila watches her intently, eyes blown midnight dark. 

“Are you close?” she pants, licking her lips.

Lauren lets out a shuddery sigh and nods.

Camila grinds down harder, leans in so she can roll Lauren’s nipple between her fingers and that  _ does  _ it for Lauren; her back arches slightly off the bed as she comes hard, trembling to her fingertips.

She falls back against the bed, breathing heavily, boneless, and Camila lifts herself up and drops down next to her. Lauren rolls closer and kisses Camila’s panting mouth, reaching down between her legs, desperate to return the gesture.

Camila whines high in her throat when Lauren rubs her hard and quick and she’s gushing down Lauren’s hand within a couple of minutes.

Lauren carelessly wipes her hand on the sheet and falls back, closing her eyes as she tries to catch her breath and come back down from the high she’s floating on.

For a few minutes, the silence is filled with their heavy breathing and the air is thick with sex. Once they both come down, they turn to look at each other and the air shifts to too intimate and uncomfortable fast.

Lauren opens her mouth, she doesn’t know what she should say but feels the need to say  _ something _ nonetheless. She never gets to formulate the words as the sound of an unfamiliar ringtone interrupts her.

Camila jumps up suddenly, reaching for her dress and underwear,  slipping them on.

“What time is it?” she mutters as she grabs her jean jacket from where she’d thrown it over the back of her chair and fishes out her phone just as it stops ringing. She checks it and groans.

“I promised my mother I’d pick up my little sister from her friend’s house,” she says as she throws on the jean jacket and combs her fingers through her wild hair. “I’m late.”

While Camila scrambles around, packing up her things, Lauren pulls on her t-shirt and jeans.

“I gotta run,” Camila says as she slings her bag across her shoulder and heads towards the door, stopping in front of the mirror hanging on the wall to hastily remove the remains of Lauren’s lipstick off of the corner of her mouth. 

Lauren wants to say something as Camila unlocks the door; she realizes she doesn’t want her to leave, not yet, not like  _ this. _

Camila pauses with her hand on the doorknob and turns to look at Lauren.

“We got a lot done today, I mean with the assignment, of course, um...” Her cheeks redden and she clears her throat. “We still have a lot to do, obviously. We’ll keep in touch?”

She waits for Lauren’s nod of agreement before she heads out of the door with a quick, “Good. See you around.”

Lauren stands there and listens to her footsteps disappear down the stairs and once she hears the sound of the outside door opening and closing, she heaves a deep sigh.

She drops back down on her bed and stares up at the roof. She’s almost embarrassed by the huge grin on her face; she knows what just occurred was different than anything they’ve done together, but right now, she’s isn’t going to overthink and overanalyze it, she’s going to enjoy this incredibly warm feeling in her chest.

She will have plenty of time to freak out.

 

 

Lauren is consciously looking for Camila the next day, but she doesn’t see much of her other than quick glimpses in the hallways and at lunch. 

It isn’t enough.

She needs Camila to see her, too. She needs to catch eyes with Camila and know that their dynamic has once again shifted. She needs to know that she isn’t the only one who has stayed up all night battling with feelings she isn’t quite ready to put into words.

It happens in the library.

Lauren is there clutching her favorite book, in desperate need of a little unwinding, when she finds Camila in the back. She’s settled comfortably in the couch, deeply engrossed in a book and Lauren stares at her for half a minute before she makes a split decision.

It’s ridiculous, really, how hard her heart is thundering as she walks across the library, but she ignores it. Camila first notices her when Lauren lowers herself onto the couch across from her. Camila stares at her for a moment and in that moment, Lauren can’t read her gaze and realizes how stupid she’s going to feel if Camila tells her to get lost.

She doesn’t. 

She returns her gaze to her book.

And Lauren’s heart doesn’t stop sledgehammering against her ribs.


	14. #PaureguiGate

The second time it happens, Camila lifts one eyebrow and stares. Ever since they’d got stuck together for AP Lit, things had been different between them. Courteous, even if still distant. A little more careful, a little softer, despite nothing else happening after they’d both given in to the sexual energy between them once more.

Lauren is in her corner of the library, comfortably installed in the couch in front of hers. She’s reading  _ To Kill a Mocking Bird _ , and Camila says nothing.

 

 

It happens again, a few days later.

When Camila reaches her favorite spot, Lauren is already there, barefoot and with furrowed brows, gaze focused on a textbook that Camila recognizes from her study sessions with Normani.

“Hi,” she says, timidly.

Lauren looks up and smiles at her, a genuine smile that reaches her eyes.

They stay there together in silence for another hour and Camila finds that Lauren’s presence, quiet and peaceful like this, makes her chest tingle with warmth.

 

 

It happens another time before things change for the worse.

Camila is reading  _ The Fault in Our Stars _ and she can’t see what book has Lauren so concentrated. Before Camila knows it, she’s crying, real tears that run down her face and wracking sobs that she can’t hide.

Lauren startles in her seat, and after a moment of indecision she comes closer and kneels in front of her, eyebrows knit together in concern. “Hey,” she whispers, fingers wrapping around Camila’s elbow. “What’s wrong?” Her green eyes are peppered with speckles of amber and Camila thinks they’re even more beautiful when she’s seeing them through a sheen of tears.

“This book,” Camila stammers, rubbing furiously at her eyes with her free hand. “It’s just so  _ sad _ .”

Lauren lets out an ‘oh’ and sits down next to her, fingertips tapping the cover of her own book until she starts speaking in a soothing tone. “I’m reading  _ The Book Thief _ now,” she says, pushing it towards Camila so she can take a look at the title. “It’s so dope because it’s from Death’s point of view, you know? But what I like the most about it is how it portrays colors. Every time someone dies, Death sees different colors in the sky and it’s just such a powerful detail. It’s made me pay more attention to the colors around me every day.”

She goes on and on about colors, and about what it means to be human, and about how there is life in reading, and how kindness could save the world, and her eyes are alight with excitement and her hands can’t stop demonstrating her words. Camila has stopped crying long ago but she doesn’t have the heart to tell Lauren that she’s read  _ The Book Thief _ and that it’s one of her favorites.

She thinks she might even like it a little more now.

 

* * *

 

Mr. Keating had said in the beginning of the week that the grades for the assignment would be up on the school’s online platform by Friday, and now Camila can’t stop checking the damn website. She’s curious. She’d put a lot of effort into that thing and she owes her new dynamic with Lauren to it. Or the new layer to her dynamic with Lauren — as if their dynamic needed any more layers.

But alas, here they are. Maybe not quite enemies anymore, not quite friends either, but definitely  _ something _ .

It’s a good thing the debate and the election will be done in about two weeks. Maybe they’ll get a chance at being something  _ else _ .

Camila’s been in the library for two hours, studying for her AP Government test, when she decides to take a break and check her phone. She doesn’t bother going outside for fresh air, she just stretches and lies down on the couch, feet propped up on one of the arms, praying that Miss Vergara won’t decide to make the rounds and see what’s up. Getting yelled at for acting like the library is her home is not on her to-do list for today.

Opening the school’s website, Camila accesses her account and there it is: AP Literature — First Semester Group Assignment — A+. Camila is so happy that she can’t help the squeal that comes out of her throat and her lips stretch in a wide smile.

She has to tell Lauren. And she can’t wait for Friday to have the assignment in her hands so she can see Mr. Keating’s notes on the margins.

Camila packs her things, papers about the Articles of Confederation still in hand, and heads to the school fields. Dinah had told her something about a joint boy team and girl team soccer practice in the afternoon, so she knows that’s where Lauren will be. She can study under the sun while she waits for them to be done.

She could also just text Lauren and let her know now that they’ve exchanged numbers, but she kind of wants to see her reaction in person.

That particular desire is something she’d rather not dwell on. Camila finds it much easier to deal with her feelings for Lauren when she doesn’t stop to think about them.

The fields are busy, Camila realizes as she gets there. The two teams practicing together had gotten people excited so there are a few groups watching from the bleachers. She waves at Dinah, the only person who notices her arrival, and her friend smiles back. There’s a seat on an empty row towards the front and that’s where she settles, searching for her sunglasses in her bag to go back to studying even though it’s hard to focus when everyone around her is talking about the Halloween party that’s coming up in a couple of days. She doesn’t care to follow the practice until she hears one of the coaches yell at the players to find a partner to do post-workout stretches.

Only then does Camila look up, and what she sees makes her regret her decision of coming here straightaway. For some reason she’s completely oblivious about, Liam and Lauren are partnered up.

Her Liam.  _ Her _ Lauren.

Except none of them is hers and she has no right to feel this dread at the sight of them together, laughing and goofing around. It settles in her chest, heavy around her heart, and Camila breathes to remember she’s still alive.

There’s a false detachment to the way she’s observing them. Like she’s no longer herself, no longer in her body, and they’re characters in a movie. That doesn’t prevent it from hurting.

Camila had made Lauren angry and defiant and vulnerable but never happy or carefree. Liam is simply holding her feet while she’s doing sit-ups and Lauren is all smiles and flushed cheeks. She punches him in the arm when they change position due to something he’d said and he grips her wrist and pulls her closer, pecking her on the lips.

That’s the moment Camila goes blind.

She grabs her things and storms out, indifferent to the stares she’s getting and to the whispers following after her. As soon as she’s off the stands, she starts running with no direction in mind. She just wants to run to a place where she can be invisible.

Camila ends up in the tiny garden behind the library, where the students are asked to go if they want to eat. Her lungs are burning and she plants her hands on her knees to catch her breath. She feels like throwing up, her emotions are curled up inside her stomach and everything is too much and all at the same time. 

She can’t take it anymore.

“Mila?”

It’s Normani and Camila has no idea how she found her here, it’s barely been two minutes. Her expression must show it too, because,

“I saw you running and decided to follow.” She puts her phone in the blazer’s pocket and shrugs. “You never run.”

Camila stands up straight then, but she isn’t sure she can speak yet.

Normani waits several beats before prodding, “Why were you running?”

Camila bites her bottom lip and looks up at the sky, hands on hips. It’s too soon to talk about this, she hasn’t processed anything yet.

“What’s going on here?” Dinah asks, appearing behind Normani. Camila startles and her eyes set on Dinah, sweaty and still wearing her practice gear, holding her phone in her left hand.

That makes Camila glare at Normani, who offers an apologetic smile. Seeing Dinah also makes her snap out of whatever weird trance she’d been sent to. “I cannot believe this just happened.”

“What is she talking about?” Normani asks, turning to Dinah.

Dinah winces, not wanting to speak for anyone, but Camila gestures for her to go ahead. “I think this is because Liam kissed Lauren?”

“What?!” Normani screeches, her eyes going from Dinah to Camila before settling on Dinah for good. “Didn’t you say she was a lesbian?”

Upon hearing that, Camila looks at Dinah too, and the girl lifts up both hands in a pacifying motion. “I don’t know what she is but that girl  _ ain’t _ straight for sure.”

“Why do you say that?” Camila asks, more curious than she’d care to admit.

“I told you guys she gets all flustered about the camren jokes.”

“It isn’t my favorite topic of conversation either.” Camila kinks an eyebrow. “Does that make me a lesbian?”

“No, Mila, that’s not what I mean,” Dinah huffs, shaking her head. “Like, when we’re discussing boys, she’s never into the conversation? And she’s all inclusive all the time and using ‘they’ pronouns and stuff.”

“She clearly isn’t gay if she’s going around kissing  _ Liam _ ,” Normani says, rolling her eyes.

“She’s not going around kissing Liam,” Dinah corrects. She seems offended at the prospect and Camila is getting progressively more annoyed. “Liam kissed  _ her _ .”

“She sure seemed cozy with him,” Camila scoffs, crossing her arms. “Are they dating?” The mere thought makes Camila want to gag, she’s so mad.

“What, no!” Dinah squeaks.

“Why are you so jumpy?” Normani asks, squinting her eyes in Dinah’s direction.

“I’m not jumpy!” Dinah takes a deep breath to prove her point, before meeting Camila’s eyes. “Look, I didn’t want to tell you anything because I didn’t want you to be upset over nothing when you’ve been hella stressed since that night we went out to celebrate the team’s victory against Miami Dade…” She exhales, as if she’s gathering courage to say whatever she needs to say. “I think Liam may be into Lauren.”

“What the hell, Dinah?” Normani is swearing, a sure sign that things are serious. “And you decided to keep this from us why? It’s Mila’s ex-boyfriend!”

“I didn’t think anything would come of it, alright?!” Dinah shoots back. “Remember that soccer social I had this weekend? Liam was there and he kept trying to get with Lauren, that’s how I noticed. But Lauren didn’t seem into him at all, she wouldn’t do that!”

“Why not?” Camila barks, moving so she’s standing next to Normani, the two facing Dinah head-on. “And why are you defending her? She hates me, this would be the perfect way to get to me!”

“Do you still have feelings for Liam?”

“No. That’s not the point!”

“Then what is the point, Mila?”

“Are you serious right now, DJ?” Normani intervenes, shifting so she’s in the middle of her two friends. She looks like the biased moderator of a heated debate. “They were together for two years! Of course she would be affected by this!”

“But why is she so affected, Mani?” Dinah asks, gaze going from one to the other. “You haven’t cared about that boy for  _ months _ , Mila!”

“Well, he didn’t care much about me either if he couldn’t even make me come most of the times we had sex, did he!” Camila shouts, getting into Dinah’s personal space.

“So what is your problem, Camila?” Dinah insists in a low, almost threatening tone, not backing down. “’Cause it sure as hell doesn’t sound like Liam is your problem.”

“Lauren is my fucking problem, okay?!” Camila yells, all of her pent-up frustration coming out in the cracks of her voice and in the lines of her clenched fists. “Is that what you wanted to hear? I can’t believe she would do this to me!”

The second Camila realizes what she’s just said, she covers her mouth with both hands, eyes widened, and turns her back to Dinah.

The silence around them is deafening and it stretches for long moments until Normani clears her throat to break the tension. “Camila?” she prompts, barely above a whisper. “What’s going on between you and Lauren?”

“Nothing,” she snarls, and starts walking away. “Leave me alone.”

 

 

By the time Camila gets home, there are about thirty notifications on her phone, between Normani and Dinah’s attempts to reach her. She ignores them all and goes straight to her room, not greeting her parents and throwing Sofi a sharp ‘not now’ when the girl tries to hold her hand to pull her into the living room. The only reason she doesn’t slam the door is her father, who is so adamantly against that particular display of aggressiveness that he would come to her room to teach her some manners. Camila doesn’t want to deal with him right now so she holds back. She does throw her bag to the floor like the defenseless object had caused her personal grief though.

It’s not that ire is new to Camila, she learned long ago how to channel it into something useful or something productive. She plays her guitar for a while or she makes the arguments for whatever essay she needs to write at the time controversial on purpose. The problem is that the anger that she’s feeling, albeit not new, is calling her to action and that’s… probably not wise.

She resists for exactly four minutes and fifty-two seconds before she fishes her phone back from her bag and opens Twitter. She hasn’t been there in almost a week. Her truce with Lauren had made her keep mostly away from social media to avoid being incensed by campaign wars started by her or Lauren’s supporters.

Of course, the trending topic is the  _ thing _ going on between Lauren and Liam, which in classic internet fashion, had gotten out of hand and now had its own ship name.

Pauregui.

From Payne and Jauregui. How cute.

(not cute at all, it makes Camila want to break things.)

There’s a hashtag and there are over two thousand tweets about it — which, if you ask Camila, is an unreasonable number for a place as irrelevant to the grand scheme of things as a high school is supposed to be. 

She goes through her timeline and through the accounts of a few different people, seeing some recounts of today’s kiss and several photos of the soccer social Dinah had mentioned. The ones tagged #Pauregui aren’t all that incriminating, they’re just sitting together, Liam with heart eyes and Lauren with a lazy, tipsy grin. It still has her heart twisting with jealousy. Jealousy that it’s getting harder to pretend she doesn’t feel.

It takes her several minutes of exploration to reach a sequence of tweets from that night that makes her blood boil for three different reasons and she considers it a victory for her self-restraint when she doesn’t smash her phone against the wall.

She doesn’t even have to write down this list to know  _ exactly _ why she is enraged beyond belief:

  1. How dare Dinah be this inconsiderate and disloyal and let the world see that she not only fraternizes with the enemy, but she’s openly fond of the damn enemy as well?
  2. How dare Liam claim that Lauren is his to take, that he’s the one for her?
  3. How fucking dare her heart jump and expand at the possibility that Lauren may want _her_?



Camila begins pacing her room and only stops when there’s a knock on the door. Her mother sticks just her head in, with a soft smile. “May I come in?”

Camila nods and sits on the bed, gesturing for Sinuhe to do the same. Maybe the comforting presence of her mother is what she needs to feel better, to get over this.

“You didn’t say hi when you arrived, and you sent your sister away,” her mother states, as if Camila wasn’t aware she’d done all that. “What’s wrong,  _ mija _ ?”

Camila sighs, one of those sighs that originates from deep inside the soul and travels through every part of the body before it turns into a hopeless breath of air. Then she stares at her mom, making sure their eyes are locked before speaking.

“I have feelings for a girl,” she says.

It comes out very factual.  _ Bad Romance _ is Lady Gaga’s best song, America is racist and sexist, Camila Cabello has feelings for Lauren Jauregui.

Sinuhe doesn’t react. She just sits there, chewing on her bottom lip and hands fiddling with the hem of her stay-at-home cardigan. Camila lets her have her time. She knows her mother loves her no matter what, she’s lucky enough to live with that reality.

“Are you sure?”

“No,” Camila says, too quickly. “Yes.” Her shoulders slump. “She hates me.”

“How could anyone ever hate you?” Her mother seems puzzled, the idea positively baffling to her — more baffling than the idea of her daughter not being the standard heterosexual child parents expect their kids to be —, and Camila feels loved for the first time that day.

“She has good reason to.”

Camila pauses, and for a minute she hesitates, unsure of how to proceed, but her mother is looking at her with kindness in her eyes and Camila relents.

She tells her almost everything — she leaves out the whole cupcake situation and she doesn’t mention anything about sex. She also conveniently pretends that Lauren had kissed her first in all the times they’d kissed, since the actual truth of Camila initiating the first kiss of all is a detail that her mother’s often prudish ears don’t need — even if that  _ is _ a detail that slightly affects the whole tale.

It’s quite a long story although she’d only known Lauren for less than three months. And she never believed it would make any difference, but it feels good to let it out, to give voice to her emotions and thoughts that revolve more and more around Lauren.

Her mother lets her finish without interrupting at any point, her expressions going from curious to indignant to saddened depending on what part of the story they’re at. 

When she’s done, Camila glances at Sinuhe expectantly.

“Karla,” her mother begins, stern and serious, using her first name for impact. “I’m disappointed in you, I raised you to be better than this and I sure hope this behavior isn’t the norm for you. It’s no wonder this girl doesn’t like you.” Camila drops her head, ashamed. “That said, someone who kisses you and then turns around and kisses someone else is someone who doesn’t care about your feelings.” Sinuhe holds Camila’s hand, gives it a light squeeze. “She doesn’t deserve your time and she definitely doesn’t deserve your attention.”

Camila feels the little light in her heart dim at her mother’s speech.

“You think so?” she asks, voice small and fearful.

“I do.” Sinuhe stands up and kisses the top of her head. “They say the heart wants what the heart wants, but it’s our job to take good care of it. The heart can want, but the heart doesn’t  _ need _ to hurt and be stomped on.” She caresses Camila’s cheek with her thumb and keeps silent for a while. Camila thinks there’s a lot more her mother wants to say, but some lessons must be learned by living. “Love doesn’t have to — and shouldn’t — be synonymous with heartache.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” Camila breathes out. “ _ Gracias, mamá _ .”

She watches as Sinuhe leaves the room, in her quiet steps that always remind Camila that her mother was taught not to be loud and not to occupy space.

Camila is still angry, in spite of the emotion not being so all-encompassing anymore. But her mom had brought to surface the feeling she’d been trying to ignore, the feeling that had made her lash out in anger because anger is so much easier.

Camila is hurt. She is disgracefully, undeniably, impossibly  _ hurt _ .

Anger and hurt don’t go well together and Camila is conscious of that as she gets her phone again and sends out two tweets:

**guess @LaurenJauregui has finally shown her true slutty colors**

**going after my ex bf is a low blow but all’s fair in love and war, right? got the message loud and clear.**

She has to control herself not to tweet Liam and take a jab at how he’s turning out to be such a bottom that he only goes for powerful women but that would imply admitting that Lauren  _ is _ powerful and there is no way in hell or earth Camila will do that.

Twitter’s reaction is immediate. She’s quoted a few times (with insults or messages of support) and she gets way too many retweets and favorites — it’s still astounding to her, how so many people don’t have anything better to do with their lives. She probably makes it all worse by replying to some random tweets with words that are too venomous, too visceral, words that are violence, finding their way to Lauren’s perceived flaws and insecurities, and poking relentlessly. This is the most unhinged she’d allowed herself to be in the public eye  _ ever _ .

It doesn’t matter anymore.

Lauren Jauregui is fucking dead to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys, thank you soooooo much for the support!! we can't believe the reception this fic's been getting :') honestly, your comments are light in our days <333


	15. an eye for an eye

The sound of fierce whispers is _instant_.

The second Liam’s mouth leaves hers, Lauren knows she’s completely and utterly screwed.

It doesn’t matter who kissed who, it doesn’t matter that Lauren instantly pulls away. The only thing that matters is that her peers have been starving and this kiss might as well be a fucking buffet that they’ll throw themselves over, frothing at the mouth.

The weight of the backlash is going to hit her with the force of a thousand tsunamis.

Lauren doesn’t know how she makes it to the end of practice and she doesn’t even find refuge in the safety of the locker rooms as her teammates are all over her.

Lauren attempts to shrug it off and make light of it and she succeeds until someone exclaims, “I could have sworn he wasn’t over his ex. Speaking of, she’s totally going to _freak_. It’s all over twitter.”

“She was there. She ran away like she was on fire.”

Lauren’s heart thuds painfully in her chest and she has her phone in her hand before she realizes she’s even moved.

It’s worse than she imagined.

# _Pauregui_

Lauren’s breath gets stuck in her throat and she dumps down on the bench. The first thing that pops up on the godforsaken tag is a video. _Fuck_.

The quality is shitty and blurry and might as well have been recorded on a fucking _potato_ , but Lauren can recognize Camila anywhere. She watches her frantically gather her books and speed off in the blink of an eye. She watches it at least _five_ times until she feels sick to the pit of her stomach.

She lifts her head just as Dinah enters the room.

Everyone including Lauren stares at her, waiting for the inevitable snarky comment, but to everyone’s surprise, nothing comes. Dinah merely surveys the room, eyes resting on Lauren for a few seconds, looking troubled, then she disappears off into the showers.

Lauren gulps. Something is wrong.

Lauren catches Dinah in the parking lot later, far away from prying eyes and ears.

“Dinah! Dinah Jane!”

Dinah whips around, her large hoop earring slapping her face, but she barely blinks. “What’s up?”

Lauren searches her face but is unable to read it. “You were in a rush to get out.”

Dinah turns and struts towards her car. “I’m tired.”

“Wait,” Lauren huffs. “Dinah, what’s wrong?”

Dinah’s forehead creases into fine lines. “Why would there be something wrong, Jauregui?” She reaches her smart, little sleek car and reaches to open the door but Lauren blocks her path. “What are you doing?”

Lauren worries her lip between her teeth for a moment. “Why do I have a feeling that you think I did something wrong when we both know I did _nothing_ wrong?”

Dinah tucks a curly strand behind her ear and studies Lauren. “Is this about you and Liam sucking faces?”

Lauren’s cheeks flush with embarrassment. “We weren’t sucking faces! He kissed me! You saw that!”

Dinah sighs heavily. “Get in the car.”

Lauren frowns, confused. “What — why?”

“Just do as I say, girl!”

Lauren reluctantly climbs into the passenger seat and watches Dinah pull out of the parking lot. “Where are we going?”

“I’m craving McDonald’s,” Dinah explains, and makes such a sharp turn that Lauren’s heart nearly falls out of her chest.

“What?”

“Girl, shush! Have you ever tasted their strawberry milkshake? To _die_ for!”

Lauren is about to protest but then realizes how fruitless it is and scoffs. Her phone vibrates insistently in her hand as her friends blow it up. She stares dreadfully as the messages keep flooding in and then it’s ringing. It’s Ally.

Dinah glances at her when she doesn’t take the call. “Are you going to answer it?”

“No,” she mutters and silences it, stuffing it in her pocket. She knows that she has to reserve whatever little energy she has for Dinah.

Once they arrive at McDonald’s, Dinah orders enough food to supply a tiny village and digs in as soon as they find a semi-clean table to sit at. Lauren watches her devour the food until her patience wears thin.

“Dinah,” she snaps, “why are we here?”

“Do you like Liam Payne?” she responds with her mouth half-full of fries.

Lauren blinks. “Are you kidding me? I know that I can get petty in my fights with Camila, but you know I’d never stoop low enough to go after her ex.”

Dinah rolls her eyes. “I know Liam has been thirsting after your ass for a while. It’s a shock you haven’t even noticed.”

“What?” Lauren is honestly surprised. “He has?”

“Oh yeah,” Dinah snorts. “He’s been out there looking like a parched dog every time you are anywhere near.”

Lauren hadn’t noticed, which doesn’t come as a shock: there’d been someone else entirely filling out every space of her mind lately. She swallows and steals a few fries from Dinah, ignoring her protests.

“So, what are you going to do?” Dinah asks around the straw in her mouth.

“What do you think," she deadpans. "Tell him that I’m _not_ interested.”

“Girl, I know you ain’t interested in him, but who _are_ you interested in?”

The question catches Lauren off guard and she blinks, startled, as Dinah penetrates her with her gaze. For a few terrifying seconds, she’s convinced that Dinah _knows_ and after a few moments of silence, she stutters:

“Um…no one.”

Dinah laughs. “Very convincing. We’re friends. You can tell me anything. You know that, right?”

“Does Camila know that I didn’t plan this?”

Dinah raises a brow. “No. She’s pissed.”

Lauren sits up straighter. “What… what did she say? You told her I’m not interested in him, right?”

Dinah stares at her. “Why do you care so much what she thinks of you? You hate her… right?”

“Of course!” Lauren splutters too quickly not to be suspicious. “I don’t care! I just don’t want to be accused of something I haven’t done.”

Dinah sits back, crosses her arms and gives Lauren a look that makes the color crawl up Lauren’s neck, settling hot and heavy in her cheeks.

Dinah’s lips spread out in a smug smirk and she leans across the table. “Lauren—”

She’s interrupted by the sound of notifications. As she becomes engulfed in her phone, Lauren breathes a sigh of relief. She thinks to herself that perhaps the best course of action would be to write a message to Camila, explaining herself before things start spiraling more out of control than necessary.

She’s brought out of her thoughts when Dinah gasps, “What the fuck…”

“What is it?” Lauren asks.

Dinah glances at her with an almost apologetic expression. “Ah… um, it’s nothing really… don’t think about it.”

Lauren is seized with a feeling of dread and she fishes her phone out of her pocket.

“Lauren! Don’t. It’s stupid. She shouldn’t have… I’m going to talk to her.”

Lauren ignores her, heart hammering in her chest. There’s a notification from Camila’s twitter. Her heart settles in her throat as she clicks on it. The tweets that meet her knock the wind out of her.

**guess @LaurenJauregui has finally shown her true slutty colors**

**going after my ex bf is a low blow but all’s fair in love and war, right? got the message loud and clear.**

The hurt hammers through her body and the confusion courses through her veins. The tweet has already garnered an insane amount of response and the vile slut-shaming comments flooding Lauren’s mentions make her sick. But not nearly as sick as the fact that Camila didn’t even offer her the benefit of the doubt, and while that would’ve been understandable a few weeks ago, Lauren had thought things had changed.

She’d been a damn fool.

She almost shoots off a scathing response but for the first time, she can’t find it in herself. She shuts down her phone, buries her fingers in her hair and forces herself to breathe.

She doesn’t care that Dinah is sitting right across from her and that this reaction is probably going to raise some questions. She feels a hand on her arm and looks up at Dinah, surprised by the angered expression on her face. She realizes that Dinah isn’t angry at her, but at Camila.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” she apologizes. “This is _not_ okay. I don’t condone this shit and I don’t know what the hell she thinks she’s doing. I’m gonna give her a piece of my mind—“

As she’s speaking, she calls Camila. She stands up and walks a little away with her phone pressed to her ear.

“Camila, what the hell?”

Lauren watches her for a second or two before she gathers her things and leaves without a backward glance.

 

* * *

 

“She _can’t_ get away with shit like that. I can’t believe you’re going to let her get away with it.” Shaun might be just as upset as Lauren as he stares at her in pure disbelief.

Lauren keeps her gaze on her lunch and mutters, “It’s not worth it.”

“Are you ok?” Ally has been looking at her with wide-eyed concern and confusion all day. Lauren glances at her and wishes she could open up to her best friend. She isn’t ready to confess what an utter fool she has been.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You’ve been acting a bit… strange lately,” Ally points out.

Lauren feels self-conscious as she realizes she has been more obvious than she thought.

She’s relieved when they’re interrupted by a pair of younger girls, freshmen perhaps, possibly sophomores. They have the same straight, platinum blonde hair, and approach Lauren with matching overeager eyes.

The slighter taller one steps forward and says in a high-pitched tone, cheeks flushed, “Hi!”

Lauren raises a brow, certainly not in the mood for shenanigans. “Hello. Can I help you?”

The girls exchange cryptic looks before one of them holds out her phone. “We have something you probably want to listen to.”

Lauren’s brow reaches her hairline and she glances at her friends who all sit a little straighter with curiosity.

“Ehm… okay?” Lauren nods at them to show her whatever it is they’ve got, stomach tight with apprehension.

The girl taps on the wide screen of her rose-pink iPhone and a recording starts playing. The sound is scratchy but Lauren instantly recognizes the voice.

 _Camila_.

Lauren grabs the phone and brings it to her ear, her friends huddling around her to get a closer listen as well.

_**“Then what is the point, Mila?”** _

Dinah’s voice. And then Normani’s. It’s a conversation between the Clique. Clearly meant to be private and if Camila hadn’t hurt Lauren, Lauren would be disturbed that there might be a pair of girls recording conversations when you are least expecting it.

Their voices are agitated. They are clearly arguing.

 _**“You haven’t cared about that boy for** _ **months** _**, Mila!”** _

_**“Well, he didn’t care much about me either if he couldn’t even make me come most of the times we had sex, did he!”** _

Ally gasps audibly. Lauren shushes her but then realizes that the recording has ended.

“Holy _shit_ ,” Shaun says and sits back on his seat, staring wide-eyed at Lauren.

Lauren glances at the girls, who look a little prouder than they ought to be.

“When was this?” she asks.

“After Liam kissed you,” one of the girls chirps.

As she had suspected. “Why did you bring me this?”

They appear caught off by the question. It was clear that they’d expected a more excited response and a prize for this scandalous recording.

“Um, we’ve seen what everyone is saying about you for the past two days,” the smaller one says timidly. “We don’t think it’s right. We wanted to help.”

“We’re going to send it to you, so you can do whatever you want with it,” the other one says.

Lauren nods and buries her fingers in her hair, taking a deep breath. When she lifts her gaze, Ally and Shaun are staring expectantly at her.

“Well, what are you going to do?”

 

* * *

 

Later that same evening, Lauren is lying on her bed and listening to that damn audio for the millionth time as if she’s hoping to catch something she didn’t on the last numerous listens. She doesn’t know why she’s holding on to it. God knows that Camila deserves to get her ass exposed after the slut-shaming she pulled.

That’s a lie.

Lauren knows exactly why she’s hesitating to leak it. Deep down, she’s terrified that it will be the nail in the coffin for them. She huffs and stares up at her ceiling, wondering when she became such a fool. It’s clear as day that Camila doesn’t give a flying fuck about her, and the faster Lauren accepts that, the better.

She gets back on twitter and immediately regrets it upon a quick skim through her mentions. Camila has successfully turned everyone against her and it occurs to Lauren that this will damage her chances of winning the fast approaching election.

That realization tips the scale and Lauren leaks the audio before she can change her mind. Camila doesn’t deserve to win the presidential election; not anymore at least. Lauren watches the audio go viral and she’s almost disgusted by how quick their peers are at turning their burning torches in Camila’s direction.

She feels sick and is about to throw the phone away when she gets a text from her friends.

 **Allysus [8:24pm]** _heeeeeeeeeeey, is everybody ready to partaaay ? :D._

 **Shauny [8:29pm]** _me and ian are good to go!_

 **Allysus [8:30pm]** _great ! I’ll be there and pick you up in 15 ! Lauren ???_

Lauren has completely forgotten about the dumb Halloween party that her friends have pestered her to tag along to. To be honest, she isn’t in a partying mood. If anything, she’s in a wallowing in self-pity mood.

 **Lern J [8:33pm]** _Sorry guys…feeling sick :/_

 **Shauny [8:33pm]** _liar. Come on! It’ll be fun_

 **Allysus [8:34pm]** _you need this, lauren!_

 **Lern J [8:38pm]** _sorry guys maybe another time_

Lauren has barely hit send before Ally is calling her. She lets out a heavy sigh and debates whether to take it or ignore it, but knowing Ally, she would just keep calling until she took it.

“Hey,” she mutters flatly into the receiver.

 _“Lauren!”_ Ally nearly shouts into her ear. _“You’re coming whether you want to or not!”_

“I thought this was a free country.”

 _“Tonight it isn’t. Listen, babe, you_ need _this. Come, you won’t regret it.”_

“Ally—“

_“I won’t take no for an answer! You are coming if I have to drag you out of there!”_

“I don’t even have a costume!” Lauren whines indignantly.

_“Costumes aren’t mandatory. I’ll see you in 20! Love you!”_

“Ally, wait!” Lauren groans, frustrated when she’s met with silence. She knows she has no choice so she might as well smack on some bloody red lipstick and dust off her vampire cape from last year.

 

 

 

The Halloween Bash at Ariana Grande’s house is as big of a spectacle as one would expect; drunk, underaged kids everywhere, girls finally having an excuse to strut around in skimpy costumes, boys being dumb as usual.

Lauren is nearly blown away by the volume of the music as soon as she steps foot inside and her first instinct is to turn around and leave. She can’t however, because Ally has a vice-grip on her arm.

“We’re going to have _so_ much fun tonight!” she squeals. She’s dressed as a nurse, but not a sexy nurse, a ‘holy’ nurse as she puts it.

“Yay,” Lauren huffs sarcastically, and Shaun grabs hold of her other arm.

“You need this, Lauren, so try to have some fun,” he shouts above the music, slipping on a pair of round framed glasses to complete his Harry Potter costume. “Let’s find the drinks.”

They make their way through sweaty, writhing bodies to the kitchen, where the refreshments are. Lauren feels people looking at her, but she notices that their looks are no longer angry and judgmental, which might have to do with the audio clip she uploaded a few hours ago. Their negative energy is focused elsewhere now.

“We should sneak out,” she whispers to Ian, who looks as bored as she feels.

“Nah,” he responds much to her surprise, and reaches for a red solo cup. “I think I’m going to stick around for a little.”

Lauren sighs and decides to just stick it out for a little while at least. She hangs around with her friends for the first hour or so, grateful that a certain trio is nowhere to be seen. She’s actually starting to enjoy herself when a familiar voice calls her name.

“Lauren!”

It’s Liam, dressed in a half-hearted batman costume, and Lauren’s first instinct is to escape. She turns on her heels and dives into the crowd, hoping to get away. She gets to the hallway before Liam catches up to her, stopping her by grabbing her arm.

“Lauren.” He looks like a confused, kicked puppy, and Lauren feels a twinge of guilt. She should end this, but this doesn’t feel like neither the right time nor the right place. “Can we talk?”

She shakes her head, glancing around nervously, but no one seems to be paying attention to them. “We really shouldn’t. Not right now.” She tries to slip out of his grasp but he stubbornly holds on.

“Lauren, please.” He steps closer, the smell of his cologne overwhelming. “I’m sorry I kissed you in front of everyone.”

Lauren looks at him and he looks genuinely apologetic. She almost feels relief, perhaps there’s no need for a serious talk with him.

That hope is shattered with his next words. “I’m sorry for the shit-storm it caused, but I’m not sorry about kissing you. I really, really wanted to kiss you.”

“Liam,” Lauren groans, pained that he’s forcing her to do this.

“I like you,” he says, all puppy and bright eyed. “I have liked you ever since I saw you.”

“No,” Lauren exclaims so sharply that Liam startles. She tugs her arm out of his grip. “No, Liam. You can’t. We can’t. This can’t happen. I’m sorry.”

“But why?” He asks confusedly and reaches for her again. “I know people are going to talk shit, but I don’t care about them. Let them talk. I only care about you.” He cups her face and she can literally see the heart eyes. Lauren has to look away and that’s when she spots her.

Camila.

She gasps audibly and pushes away from Liam.

It’s too late. Whatever Camila thinks she saw, she seems angry, betrayed even, and she turns on her heels, disappearing out of sight.

Lauren ignores Liam and follows Camila. She almost loses her in the crowd but catches her sprinting upstairs.

She finds her in a small room, presumably a guest room, standing by the window, gripping the windowsill tightly.

“Camila?” Lauren calls quietly as if scared to startle her. It doesn’t work. Camila startles, spinning around to face her. It’s then that Lauren notices her costume; a pair of cat ears and a cute, little black dress.

“What do you want?” she snaps, the skin underneath the whiskers drawn on her cheeks bright red. “Leave me alone!”

Lauren winces.

Her fingers curl into tight fists as she glares at Camila. “You’re unbelievable.”

Camila scoffs and rolls her eyes as if she can’t believe what she’s hearing. “ _I’m_ unbelievable? You’re the one who’s going after my ex-boyfriend!”

“I’m not!” Lauren exclaims. “I’m _not_ going after your ex-boyfriend, damn it!”

Camila’s jaw clenches and Lauren can see the disbelief in her eyes mixed with the anger. “Oh yeah? Then what was that I just saw?”

Lauren opens her mouth to explain herself, to tell Camila that she was in the middle of turning Liam down, but then she thinks that she doesn’t owe it to Camila. “You’re so full of shit, Cabello. You don’t even give a flying fuck about him!”

Camila steps forward, pointing an accusatory finger at Lauren. “You’re the one who released that audio of me!”

Lauren nods fiercely. “Yes, and you deserved it. Everyone deserved to see what a manipulative little cunt you really are!”

Camila looks like Lauren slapped her. Her bottom lip wobbles and for a terrifying moment, it looks like she’s going to burst into tears. She gets a hold of herself, sniffing and biting hard into her lip, inhaling deeply through her nose.

“I hate you,” she says, and it’s a wonder that Lauren doesn’t show a reaction even though the words feels like an ice pick piercing through her chest. “I wish you never came here. I was fine. We were fine. The school went to shit the second you stepped inside.”

Lauren swallows hard. “You’re just mad that everyone isn’t kissing the ground you walk on anymore, that you’ve been ripped from that pretty pedestal you’ve been preening on for too long.”

“Get out,” she whispers.

Lauren doesn’t move, just stares back at her.

“Get out!” she shouts it this time, tiny body practically shaking, and Lauren is caught between reaching out and touching her red cheeks, and turning on her heels without a backward glance.

“I said _get out_!” Camila surges forward, palms digging into Lauren’s shoulders, shoving her back.

Lauren stumbles and barely manages to find her balance before Camila shoves past her, storming off.

Lauren stares into the dark and empty room, feeling as dark and empty in her heart. She feels the hopelessness and frustration cloud her mind, eyes burning with unshed tears. She needs to get out of here.

On her escape, she stumbles onto a giggling Ally who grabs her arm. “Lauren! I’ve been looking _everywhere_ for you. Come, you have to see this. Ian got drunk and he’s…” Ally trails off upon getting a closer look at her and Lauren knows that all her emotions are written into every inch of her face.

Ally’s brows come together in concern. “Lauren? What’s wrong?”

The question only makes the tears pop back into her eyes and she takes a shaky breath. “I need to get out of here.”

Ally nods in understanding, stroking down Lauren’s arm until her fingers find the gaps of Lauren’s hand, giving a warm squeeze. “Come.”

Lauren keeps her head down and trusts Ally to navigate them safely through the sweaty, hormonal teenage bodies. As soon as they’re out in the fresh, crisp air, Lauren takes a few deep breaths as if she’d been drowning.

Ally gets Lauren into her car and offers her a bottle of water. Lauren gratefully gulps down half the content before she wipes her mouth.

Ally is studying her intently and as much Lauren tries to hide the feelings threatening to drown her, she knows it’s futile. She also knows it’s about time that she confides in her best friend.

“I just had a fight with Camila,” her voice breaks slightly as she realizes that was probably the last fight she was going to have with Camila ever again. She remembers the finality in the other girl’s eyes and her heart squeezes painfully.

Ally reaches out and takes her hand gently. “Okay,” she says, and Lauren can hear the understandable confusion.

Lauren licks her chapped lips and turns to face Ally. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Ally’s face is open and sweet as she nods, indicating that she’s listening.

“I have… um… lately… I have,” she searches for the right words and comes up empty-handed, realizing there’s no right words in this situation. She squeezes her eyes shut and expels a deep sigh. “I think I have feelings for Camila.”

She cracks one eye open and studies Ally’s reaction. Ally’s eyes widen a bit and her mouth falls open.

“Oh,” she says eventually, and honestly Lauren can’t help but feel that she doesn’t look as surprised as she should be.

“I know, it’s crazy. I _feel_ crazy,” she lets out a self-deprecating laugh. “I honestly don’t even know how or when it happened? I never thought it was possible but it _is_ … and I wish it wasn’t. “

“Why?” Ally asks quietly.

“ _Why_?” Lauren repeats, taken aback by the question. “Because it’s Camila? And I’m supposed to hate her. There’s no one on this earth that can get under my skin like she can and having feelings for her makes me a fucking fool, because she doesn’t feel the same way.”

Ally purses her lips. “How can you be sure? That she doesn’t feel the same way?”

“Um, because she literally slut-shamed me? And she’s done nothing but make my life a living hell since I got here.”

Ally smiles. “You know how kids tease and sometimes bully each other because that’s the only way they can express their feelings?”

Lauren blinks perplexed. “What… you think she has feelings for me too?”

Ally shrugs. “Stranger things have happened.”

Lauren swallows, feeling her heart thud harder at the mere possibility that these feelings aren’t one-sided, aren’t unrequited. She takes a shaky breath.

“Ally, why aren’t you… I don’t know… more surprised? Mad?” Honestly, Lauren had gone through all the possible reactions once Ally found out and this calm, unsurprised and sweet one has not been one of them. It’s quite anticlimactic.

“Mad?” Ally laughs amused. “Why would I be mad? I would never be mad at you. It’s not like you did anything wrong.”

Lauren felt like she’d done nothing but make mistake after mistake like some kind of catastrophe junkie.

“I kept it a secret from you.”

“You were just waiting for the right time to tell me.”

Lauren doesn’t know why but she feels her vision blur with tears and she hides her face behind her hand in embarrassment. She lets Ally pull her into her hug.

“Hey, come on, everything is going to be alright, I promise,” she soothes, running her fingers through Lauren’s hair but all Lauren can think about is the way Camila’s hands feel in her hair and her heart breaks into a million tiny pieces.

It takes her several moments to calm down and once she does, she pulls away and dries her wet eyes with the tissue Ally hands her.

“So, tell me what happened back there. Why did you fight?” Ally asks.

“She was mad that I posted the audio and she still thinks that I want Liam,” Lauren snorts and rolls her eyes. “We screamed at each other for a couple of minutes and then she ran off.“

“Did you tell her that Liam kissed you and that you’re not interested in him?” It’s a reasonable question and Lauren stays silent for a moment, then shrugs.

“No,” she mutters.

Ally stares at her. “Why?”

Lauren huffs. “I don’t know! Because I was mad and I didn’t think she deserved an explanation! It’s not like she gave me room to explain, she just attacked me right off the bat.”

“I know what is done is done, but with a little better communication things might’ve turned out different.”

Lauren groans miserably and rubs at her face. If there’s one thing Camila and her suck at, it’s communication. They’ve never communicated like well functioning members of society.

“I know. I know. God, she was so mad. We were both so mad and for a moment, I thought we were gonna kiss—”

"Hold up,” Ally interrupts, blinking rapidly. “Did you just say _kiss_?”

 Lauren’s cheeks warm up and she looks everywhere but at Ally. “Yeah...we’ve kissed before. And other things.”

“Whoa,” Ally’s eyes are big and round. “Oh my _God_. For how long have you been doing ‘other things’ with Cabello?”

Lauren shrugs, keeping her eyes on her hands. “For a while. Weeks. Months? I don’t know…”

“I need a moment to process that,” Ally says and then falls into a fit of giggles.

Lauren stares at her, commenting dryly, “What do you find so funny, Allyson?”

Ally wipes the corner of her eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I know you’re distressed and everything but _holy shit_! The whole school believes that you hate each other’s guts but you’ve got everyone _fooled_! If anyone finds out, everyone is going to have a complete meltdown, just _imagine_ —“

“Ally,” Lauren interrupts sharply, “no one can find out. Dear lord, I _cannot_ deal with that.”

“Of course not, of course not,” Ally assures. “I’m sorry. But this only increases the possibility that she likes you back. I mean you’d _have_ to like someone to _some_ degree to do ‘other things’ with them.” Ally shoots her a teasing look and Lauren rolls her eyes hard.

“It doesn’t matter now. It’s done. I don’t think we are ever going to speak to each other again,” Lauren mutters, slumping defeated in her seat.

Ally reaches out and squeezes her shoulder. “You need a bit of cheering up, sweetie. Do you want to come back to mine? We can buy pizza on the way and watch movies and forget about everything.”

Lauren’s lips tug up into a half-hearted smile. “That actually sounds super tempting right now.”

As the car comes to life and speeds down the road, Lauren looks up at the star-studded sky, wondering if the heavy weight on her chest will ever lift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guyssss, these hoes are getting more and more extra lmao hold on there, it'll be a bit more serious for a few chapters, but we got you <3
> 
> let us know your thoughts!


	16. the debate

If someone had told Camila at the beginning of the school year that, almost three months later, she’d be having a secret meeting with a suspicious-looking guy in a park, she would have laughed and laughed and laughed.

As things turn out, she’s currently sitting on a bench by a tree, watching as a tall, lean guy with a tattoo sleeve on his left arm walks towards her in a leisurely pace. She sighs and starts playing with the ripped lines on the knees of her skinny jeans, pondering how on earth she’s ended up here.

“Camila?” he asks. His voice is hoarse but a bit squeaky, like he’s just woken up even though it’s 5 PM.

She nods and he takes a seat next to her, removing a pack of rolling tobacco from his back pocket before looking back at her. “You Jauregui’s new girl?”

“No,” she says, biting her lip. “I just have a personal interest in knowing what troubles she used to get into before she showed up and turned my life upside down.”

“Why can’t you just ask her?” He’s lining up the tobacco in a shroud and Camila follows his movements with curiosity. Somehow, it seems like a relaxing thing to do. “Wouldn’t that be easier?”

She rolls her eyes, and takes a deep breath before speaking. She’d found this Luis person a while ago — the awful pictures of Lauren partying had been on his social media —, but she’d only gotten in touch with him after the Halloween Bash, hoping he’d have dirt on Lauren that could be useful for the final days before the election now that her own reputation has seen better days. Preferably, something new she could use for the debate on Friday. He’d agreed to meet her as long as she paid him for the effort and Camila still doesn’t know how to feel in regards to the extent she’s willing to go, for Lauren and against Lauren.

This meeting isn’t the first time they’re talking and Luis should know the answer to his question, but it would seem his brain is too fried to remember any of that.

“Lauren and I aren’t friends nor are we on good terms,” she explains. “Actually, I want to crush her and make her wish she’d never been born, which is why we’re here.”

Luis hums and starts adding weed and hashish to his tobacco. “She stole your boyfriend too?”

“She stole yours?” Camila perks up. _This_ is useful information. And a scorned man should be more inclined to offer compromising material for her to achieve her goals.

“Not my boyfriend, no.” He snorts derisively, and licks the shroud twice before closing it. “Bitch convinced me to have a threesome with her and my girlfriend and a few days later my girl left me, said Jauregui was better at fucking and more worthy of her time.”

Camila has to control herself not to laugh because she isn’t surprised Lauren is better at sex than this mess of a boy. Then she remembers Lauren was out there doing drugs and having threesomes and her mood darkens.

“Did you go to school with her?”

“Nah,” he says, bringing a lighter close to his lips. “I dunno what happened, like, she sorta came outta nowhere. One day I’d never seen her in my life, the other she was at every single party I went to.”

“Do you still see her around?”

Luis drops his head back and blows the smoke into the sky before offering her a puff. Camila feels tempted for a moment and then she remembers she doesn’t know him and much less trusts him, so she refuses with a polite smile.

“I haven’t seen her since the summer started. Rumor has it she went to rehab and after that, well—”

“ _What?_ ” Camila snaps, turning her whole body towards him. “What do you mean rehab?!”

He shrugs, like it means nothing to him when Camila’s heart is hammering inside her constricting chest. “I dunno, man. Maybe she went to rehab, maybe she didn’t, you gonna have to ask her.”

“But why the rumor then? It had to come from somewhere.”

“Some kid from her school, who cares. Most people believed it ‘cause, yeah, that Jauregui bitch was wild.”

Camila thinks of soft lips curling up in a smile, and of hands that hold on too tightly, and she swallows the offense she feels at Luis’ words. “What do you mean?” she forces out.

“Bitch’d get, like, real fuckin’ plastered — I’m talkin’ like, pills too, not just weed or alcohol, yeah? — and fuck everything in sight, ya know? At some point, every time she showed her ass at a party, there were bets runnin’ for how many people she’d go through in one night. I think her max was three. Or maybe four?” He chuckles, the sound of it making Camila shrink inside her oversized hoodie. None of this sounds remotely okay and she’s realizing that she’s getting more than she bargained for. “It’s hard to know what’s true and what isn’t. But she’s a fuckin’ animal in bed, gotta give her that.”

Camila gulps, feeling dirty and exposed and oh-so-worried all of a sudden. This isn’t the Lauren she knows and, somehow, it hits her that maybe she shouldn’t be made aware of these stories. Not like this.

It’s too late to back down now though so she persists, “Do you know why she changed schools?”

He laughs, a deep, half-growling noise that comes from his spite and not from any humor. His eyes are red and cold when they meet hers: “I figure even whores don’t wanna be known as the school slut.”

His words strike her like lightening, strong and cruel and unrelenting, and Camila pulls out the fifty dollar bill from her pocket and shoves it in his general direction, standing up to leave.

“Ya know what’s funny, though?” he asks after her, still sitting and with awe in his voice. She halts, not wanting to hear anything else but _having_ to. “It never seemed like she felt anything. All those nights and parties, those drugs and those bodies, and she always just looked empty.” Camila turns so they can face each other and his gaze is surprisingly kind for once, sober even. As if he understands. “It was like she was dead inside.”

Camila feels the tears prickle at the corner of her eyes and leaves without saying goodbye.

  

 

She drives to Normani’s house with _1989_ blasting to unreasonable levels, so loud people on the street could have a dance party as she’s stopped at a traffic light.

She wants to feel disillusioned, she wants to believe feelings are dumb and boys are dumber and maybe girls are even worse than that. She’d gone to the park to get dirt on Lauren and she’d left it with information that needles at her heart and makes it bleed with the emotions she’s been trying very hard to pretend aren’t real.

Everything Camila had found out… she can’t use that. She hates Lauren and she’s hurt, she feels played and used, but she still cares too much. It’s one thing to destroy Lauren’s reputation and quite another to destroy _her_.

Parking on Normani’s street, Camila lowers the volume and lets _New Romantics_ finish playing before she turns off the car and walks up her friend’s driveway to ring the bell. Normani beams as she sees her and it worries Camila when that does little to soothe the storm brewing inside her.

They sit around the dining room table in silence, Normani writing an essay, Camila working on the questions the debate club chair had provided her. It’s a laborious task. She keeps checking debate scripts online and reading on rules and guidelines to create good speeches, applying them to her own situation and writing and rewriting paragraphs until she’s satisfied.

It takes one hour for her to stop and nudge Normani, a tiny smile forming on her lips. “Hey. Anything here I could eat?”

Normani rolls her eyes and stands up to bring her a banana. Dinner time is not that far after all, she shouldn’t be stuffing herself with food.

“Dinah isn’t coming?” she asks, around a mouthful of the fruit. She aims for nonchalant, but Normani isn’t stupid and knows her too well.

“She said she might drop by after soccer practice.”

“She’s still mad at me.” It’s not a question. Dinah hasn’t been the same with her since the Pauregui incident.

“She’s not mad at you, Mila,” Normani says, with a sigh. “She’s hurt. You know she owns up to her sexuality and loves sleeping around, she isn’t shy about it in any way. But seeing her best friend engage in public slut-shaming—”

“I apologized, Mani. Publicly!” Camila interrupts, playing with a pen to keep her hands busy. “I deleted those tweets. I was just so angry, I didn’t think—“

“I know, baby, and she does too.” Normani does the thing she always does, her hand resting on Camila’s thigh to keep her grounded. “Just give her some time. It’s not like she stopped talking to you altogether, right? We still hang out at school. She just needs some space to herself until she’s okay again.”

“What can I do?” Camila slumps in her chair. “She hasn’t been mad at me since we were 12 and I stole her Nutella sandwich. I don’t know how to live without Dinah.”

Normani laughs. “I’m pretty sure she doesn’t know how to live without you, either. We’re all stuck with each other.” Camila moves her chair closer so she can lay her head on Normani’s shoulder. “But do you know what would help?”

“What?”

“If you opened up to us about whatever is going on between you and Lauren.” Camila tenses at her words and tries to pull away, but Normani grabs her hand and intertwines their fingers. “Even a blind man can see that something is up with you, Mila. I’ve known you since primary school, you only shut us out when it’s important.”

“No,” Camila growls, shaking her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Normani tries to look into her eyes but Camila keeps hers stubbornly on the surface of the table.

“Fine,” Normani eventually sighs, after the silence stretches on to the point of discomfort. "There’s something I need to tell you.”

“If this is about your newfound friendship with Hernandez, I already know.”

“I, uh — yes,” Normani stammers, uncharacteristically so. Camila turns to her, one eyebrow arched. “There’s something else though.”

“What is it?”

“I think I may, uh, be…” Normani gulps, and Camila feels her hand shaking, “liking her more than planned.”

Camila’s chin drops, and it’s her turn to try to lock her gaze with Normani’s while the other girl desperately avoids it. “Shit, Mani,” she breathes out. “Are you okay?”

Normani’s eyes snap up and Camila is a little hurt that her reaction is surprising to her best friend. “I think so? This is all a bit… unexpected.”

“Here I thought you were the straightest woman alive after Dinah,” Camila jokes, shifting so her whole body is facing Normani. “How are you with… everything? Does she know?”

“Of course not!” Normani screeches. “This isn’t like when you like a boy and if he doesn’t like you back, it hurts for a few days but there are dozens of other boys around. If I tell her and she doesn’t feel the same, she’s going to hate me.”

“If she hates you for having feelings for her, she’s not worthy of your time.” Camila pulls Normani’s hair away from her face and over her shoulder. “Why do you say that anyway?”

“We got closer because my parents started attending her church, remember? And well, she’s very into… Jesus, and all that.“ Normani sighs and Camila fights the urge to laugh at those words. “You never know what kind of Christian you’re gonna get, you know?”

Camila offers a small smile in assent. “So this is an unrequited crush?”

“I don’t know, Mila. I think we’ve been flirting.” Camila widens her eyes but Normani doesn’t notice, too focused on her lap. “Yes, there’s definitely been some flirting. And sometimes it gets awkward but in a really cute way, and there’s lots of blushing too. But God, Mila, I have no idea what I’m doing!”

Camila lets out a laugh and hugs her friend. “Trust me, I am the _worst_ person to give you advice on this. My mom always tells me to follow my heart, if that helps in any way.”

Normani hums and stays quiet for a minute. And then, “You’re surprisingly okay with all this.”

“I resent that, Normani Kordei,” she says, sitting back so she’s no longer in Normani’s personal space. She fake glares at her friend. “It’s no secret that I can’t stand Hernan—, Ally, but I _love you_. You are one of the most important people in my life, you’ve stood by me through heaven and hell, you’ve seen me cry more than anyone else I know and not just because we watch heartbreaking movies together.” Camila takes a deep breath and holds both Normani’s hands with her own, their eyes locked and earnest. “If this matters to you, it matters to me.”

“Thank you,” Normani says, her eyes watery and her lips curled up in a shaky smile. “That means so much to me.”

“Bitch please, like this is something.” Camila flips her hair and winks. “Thank _you_ , for trusting me with something so close to your heart.”

Normani giggles, and moves to collect the papers Camila had been using to take notes and write reminders whilst preparing her debate answers on her computer. Camila inhales sharply as Normani reads through them, fingers itching to snatch the sheets away from her prying gaze.

“Don’t be too hard on Lauren, okay?” Camila’s jaw clenches. “I don’t think she’s a bad person. This whole mess just got out of control.”

“I won’t do anything she wouldn’t do,” she grits out.

Normani looks at her, something too close to pity flashing in her eyes, and Camila grabs her notes back roughly. “Let’s just get back to work.”

 

* * *

 

The morning of the day of the debate, Camila is a nervous wreck.

Her alarm rings and she isn’t certain if she’d woken up from slumber or if she’d just been removed from a semi-conscious state. She showers faster than usual, and only realizes too late that she’d forgotten to apply her in-shower body lotion, skin dry and underwear and knee-high socks already in place. She always wears the uniform as it was meant to be worn for official school business and if that usually makes her feel uncomfortable, today is even worse because it’s Friday and most, if not all, students will be wearing their casual attire. The tie instead of her signature bow tie is what bothers her the most, and Camila claws at her neck as if it was its fault. That makes her decide to tie her hair up in a high ponytail. Maybe the lightness around her head will trick her into believing she can breathe.

Her mother gives her a kiss on the cheek before she leaves and wishes her good luck; Sofi hugs her tight with a squeal of ‘good luck, Kaki!’ as she runs out the car and into her school.

It makes her feel better but the nerves stay, like an electric current beneath her skin.

Camila waits for Normani and Dinah by Greenwich’s parking lot, headphones buzzing with hip hop so she can shush the demons of her mind, and her eyes glisten with tears when she spots them stepping out of Dinah’s car, both wearing the uniform too. For a moment, Camila can’t care about appearances and fabricated projections of self, she runs to Dinah and jumps, arms wrapping around her neck and legs wrapping around her waist.

Dinah laughs her loud, exuberant laugh, and Camila buries her face in Dinah’s hair, whispers of ‘I love you I love you I love you’ and ‘I’m so sorry’ leaving her lips like a prayer as Normani watches on with a smile and a hand above her heart.

Dinah puts her down and kisses her temple, holding her hand so they can all walk inside together. “I really must love you a lot if I’m wearing this fashion tragedy on the one day I don’t have to, Walz.”

Camila giggles and pulls her closer, taking a moment to let Normani catch up and link their arms.

Dinah’s support, at this point and after everything that had happened, means more than she knows.

Camila spends the entire morning on edge, cursing the student council rules and her bad luck for the debate to fall in a day that she has AP Lit. She would’ve gladly avoided the extra stress.

When Camila walks through the door of the classroom, Lauren gazes up at her and she’s never looked more intimidating than she does now, the dark makeup on her eyes making them flash dangerously. Her lips are painted blood red and her hair is styled straight. She looks like a vampire queen and Camila’s knees buckle as she passes Lauren to reach an empty table.

Everything would be so much easier if Lauren’s mere presence didn’t make her heart stutter and her brain scream.

Lauren is wearing her uniform too, though not properly. Too many buttons are open, and the tie hangs loose around her neck. She is the perfect combination of effortless and effortful, and Camila struggles to quell the images that are conjured in her head.

AP Lit ends up being slow and torturous, way more than usual and for entirely different reasons. She’s never choosing a seat where she can see Lauren _ever_ again.

  

 

The debate is at 4:30 PM and Camila arrives thirty minutes early as had been requested, through the door that leads to the backstage of the auditorium, and with her campaign files in a fluorescent pink folder where both she and Dinah had drawn hearts with a sharpie during Math. The chair of the debate club, a lanky black boy called John Teigen, is already there and he welcomes her with a warm smile that she returns.

“I’m so excited,” he tells her, and Camila can perceive the excitable energy in his demeanor. “This is the highest-profile debate since we started at Greenwich and I get to moderate! Aren’t you excited too?”

“I wouldn’t call it excitement but—“

“Oh, you must be nervous, no?”

Camila nods, not wanting to disclose too much.

"Don’t worry, Camila,” John says, squeezing her shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll do great. I’ve seen you speak, we’ve debated together and I followed your work last year too. Lauren talks a big talk, but she isn’t a match for you.”

“Well, talking a big talk is what debates are all about,” she mutters to John’s sympathetic grimace.

Lauren arrives then, her steps heavy as she approaches them.

“Hey, I’m Lauren,” she greets, with an extended hand towards the boy.

“John,” he replies, smiling. Camila doesn’t want to, but she’s getting very irritated with how smiley he is being.

“Cabello,” Lauren says, making Camila jump. She hadn’t expected any acknowledgement.

“Hi,” she squeaks out, not at all embarrassing herself.

John frowns at her and Lauren smirks, removing a stack of papers from her blazer’s pocket before undressing it and throwing it onto the nearest chair. Camila really hates that she did that.

When had collarbones become a distracting body part? Camila hadn’t been informed of that shift in the universe.

“Alright, ladies,” John starts, snapping Camila out of her reverie. “The first half of the debate will consist of the questions I shared with you, so it’s your best chance to showcase your ideas and what your intentions are for the student body presidency without interruptions. You’ll get two and a half minutes each to answer the four questions.

“After that, come the scenario questions. And from this point onwards, you can reply to each other if you so choose, okay?

“You’ll have to think on your feet as there’ll be no time to come up with nice, wrapped-up-in-a-pretty-package answers. The idea is for the students to see who you are at your core, what are the values you default to under pressure. Lauren will get the first turn for two scenarios, and Camila, you’ll get first turn for the other two.

“The last part is audience questions, which can either go great or it can be a disaster.” He notices their widened eyes and is quick to add, “I mean that people sometimes don’t want to ask anything so we all just sit and stand around in awkward silence until the moderator decides to end the debate. Also, the questions won’t be screened because, well, whatever this—” he gestures between the two of them “— _is_ , the faculty aren’t aware of the magnitude of it nor do they know that the whole school is invested in this race like it’s the new season of _Game of Thrones_.” Lauren snorts and Camila rolls her eyes. “The teachers on duty for today are Mr. Keating and Mrs. James, they’ll be controlling the crowd and going around with microphones when it’s time for the audience questions. You may be surprised there are only two teachers assigned for debate duty, but you have to understand it’s been… a while, since more than thirty or forty people bothered showing up for this kind of thing. Any other teacher in attendance is here of their own volition and I’m sure they’ll get to work as soon as they realize that this isn’t the usual no-one-cares school event.

“All in all, the debate is scheduled to last for one hour. Any questions?”

Camila gulps, swallowing the impulse to ask if it’s too late to back down or if the whole debacle really needs to last for a whole hour. Last year she’d been the only one running for the presidency even though she was a junior, so there’d been no debate and, even though there had been an election as a formality, the only event she’d had to attend related to the presidential race was her inauguration.

She’s regretting her decision to drop out of the debate club at the beginning of senior year as she observes John answering Lauren’s questions, not quite hearing what they’re saying although she should. Shaking her head to try and regain focus, Camila steps away from them to sit on the chair next to Lauren’s abandoned blazer. She considers reviewing her notes but she figures that won’t make any difference now, so she leans her head on the wall and closes her eyes.

The auditorium is getting noisier as the minutes tick by and that is also contributing to her anxiety. It’s one thing to fight with Lauren over twitter or in the privacy of classrooms and bedrooms and library corners, but it’s quite another to do so in front of the whole school.

What if they look at her and they just _know_?

She’s been able to handle the jokes about her and Lauren and their potential secret affair without a fuss, because they always seemed distant, a communal fantasy based more on wishful thinking than on anyone witnessing anything or being aware of the layers in their dynamic. However, she’s about to spend one hour under obsessive scrutiny and the truth is, she doesn’t trust herself not to give anything away. She doesn’t trust her eyes not to stare at Lauren, she doesn’t trust her body not to turn to Lauren, she doesn’t trust her temper not to snap at Lauren.

When all the reactions Lauren evoked in her were filed under the label ‘loathing’, Camila felt a lot more comfortable in her skin.

“Okay, ladies, I’m going in,” John announces. “I’ll do a quick introduction first to get the audience to quiet down. You just have to come in when I call your names.” He waits for them to nod before proceeding, “Lauren, your podium is the right-side one and—”

“Wait,” Lauren interrupts, holding up her hand with her fingers making an L, “right-side from backstage or from the audience’s point of view?”

Camila snickers. Lauren is such an idiot.

“I’m giving you directions with the backstage as a starting point,” John replies, like it’s obvious. To him it must be. “Camila, yours is the left-side one. The notes you guys sent us are there, printed exactly as they were in the original documents, but you’re welcome to bring any extra notes you may have when you come on stage.

“The podiums have microphones, so make sure you speak to them for everyone to hear you.” He squeezes Lauren’s shoulder and Camila’s elbow at the same time, eyes shining bright. “Ready?”

Camila mutters a ‘sure’ and Lauren releases a reluctant ‘yeah’, and they watch John walking to the end of the stage and disappearing from view.

“You alright there, Cabello?” Lauren asks, lifting one eyebrow.

Camila’s attention whips back to her and she’s immediately filled with resentment. “Like you care.”

Lauren clenches her jaw so tightly Camila can see the tendons working it, but her gaze never wavers until they hear John calling her name.

“Guess I’m coming in first,” she says, more to herself than to Camila. She does take a moment to look at her one last time. “May the odds be ever in your favor.”

Camila can’t help the tiniest of smiles. A fight to the death is an accurate enough analogy.

(not that she thinks that kids dying for the sake of a tyrannical regime’s entertainment can be compared to anything. still, she can appreciate a pop culture reference when it’s offered to her.)

The auditorium is _packed_ , Camila realizes as soon as she steps on stage, with a wave and the fakest of grins. There are people sitting down on the lateral staircases and people standing up at the back, not to mention she spots some of the dark red chairs actually hosting two students, sitting on each other’s laps.

It’s too much and her heart thuds like violence inside her chest. That Lauren looks as panicked as she feels is but a small reprieve.

John says a few words that seem pretty much a repetition of what had happened before they got on stage, and he has them shake hands which is… disconcerting. Lauren’s hand is cold and Camila’s hand is sweaty and they shake hands for longer than necessary, their fingers lingering an extra second as they part.

If anyone has a weird fixation with camren and is recording the debate, this moment is gonna make it on twitter, Camila thinks, as she settles behind her podium. She scans the crowd until she finds Dinah and Normani in the third row, waving at her with big smiles. She returns the smile and then looks at John, waiting for him to read the opening question.

Camila comes out on top from the first part of the debate. Yes, she’s nervous — more than she’s ever been for a school event —, but she’s used to speaking in public, she knows how to project her voice and how to intonate her words. Lauren, however, stumbles through her answers, different ideas coming out jumbled and poorly defined, and Camila bites her lip so she doesn’t smirk when at one point Lauren forgets what she’s trying to say and the auditorium echoes with the sound of her shuffling through her notes.

Who knew Lauren got so stressed over speaking in public?

Camila doesn’t get to celebrate for long as her problems start with the scenario questions. She should have known Lauren would take the ability of replying to each other a little too seriously.

Things seem to be going her way for a few minutes, with Camila getting to answer first to ‘You’re Greenwich’s principal and you have to choose between refurbishing the science labs and granting more scholarships to economically disadvantaged students. What would you do?’. It’s easy. She goes with refurbishing the science labs since a school’s first duty should be to the students it already has, but she nudges at the Greenwich Foundation and their work that had allowed more students than ever to be admitted on scholarships this year. She even offers ideas for fundraising events, thus making sure her answer is satisfying to both conservative and liberal-leaning students.

Lauren goes full-on activist mode, preaching about everyone having the right to a good education and how it should be everyone’s duty to contribute to that, and Camila focuses on a random seat in the audience to avoid rolling her eyes. At least Lauren’s better at spilling her opinions on the spot than she is at pre-arranged monologues or this would be the most disappointing, overhyped event in Greenwich’s history. Nevertheless, Camila can’t help turning to Lauren and mouthing “Communist,” because the spiel that’d just come out of her mouth had been utopian at _best_.

In hindsight, that little moment of teasing had been Camila’s worst idea of the day.

(well, maybe not _the_ worst, but—)

She can see Lauren physically go from looking like a fish out of water to ready to brutally tear Camila apart.

“Next question,” John says, from his position in the middle of the stage. The podiums are ten feet apart and he’s been moving between them, looking more like a presenter than a moderator. “For Lauren to answer first: you’re passing down a hallway, already late for class, when you notice a freshman being bullied by a group of seniors. What would you do?”

Camila stiffens, nails sinking into the paper sheets on the podium, where no one can see them.

“I would interfere,” Lauren claims. Quick, easy, _confident_. “I would step in and walk the student to their classroom safely. Bullies are weak-spirited, miserable people who need to pick on others to feel powerful. How else do you justify doing something when you know it’s wrong?”

“Camila?” John prods.

“If it’s a group of seniors,” Camila starts, working around the cracks in her voice with modest success, “it’s potentially unsafe for a person on their own to interfere. I would try to find a teacher or hall monitor to settle the conflict.”

Lauren snickers, and Camila’s blood freezes in her veins. “Oh, but we both know you wouldn’t do that, don’t we, Ms. Cabello?” she jeers, planting her forearm on the podium as she faces Camila, eyes glinting with mischief. “After all, there are two kinds of evil people in this world: those who do evil stuff, and those who see evil stuff being done and don’t try to stop it.”

Camila feels as if Lauren had just slapped her. It’s everything about her reply: the rebuttal, so clear and unmistakable, like all Camila does is lie; the Ms. Cabello, formal and taunting to the point of calculated excess; the too-casual explanation of what classifies as evil and the implication that _she_ most definitely does.

Three months later and Camila still can’t cope with how this is what Lauren thinks of her.

“Unlike you, _Ms. Jauregui_ ,” she says, deliberately mispronouncing the surname. It’s worth it just to see Lauren narrowing her eyes for half a second. “I do worry about my well-being. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly the strongest or most intimidating person in this school—“

“ _Excuses_ ,” Lauren coughs into the microphone, making the audience laugh.

“—so calling an adult would be the safest option for me,” Camila carries on, digging her nails so deep in her palm that it hurts. “An action that I urge other students to take if they ever happen to witness a situation like this. It’s rarely safe to interfere if you are at a numerical disadvantage.”

Lauren rolls her eyes hard, not even trying to disguise her contempt. “Yeah, I’m sure your fragile little frame has rescued a lot of bullied students that way,” she scoffs. “An impressive amount of zero ever since I got here.”

John chimes in then, announcing the next question, and Camila has never been more grateful for an interruption, or for how being a part of the debate club had prepared her to appear calm and collected. It’s just unfortunate that her poker face doesn’t extend to how she feels inside, and now she has to balance being off-kilter on top of everything else.

The following scenario questions don’t venture into dangerous territory yet Camila only becomes more on edge as the time passes and the reality of unscreened audience questions sets in.

The auditorium has 250 seats and there are more people than that present. Statistically, there are bound to be students here who hate her, students who hold grudges against her, students who just want to cause chaos and spike drama. And whoever runs that stupid gossip twitter must be around somewhere, liveblogging the event and dying to be the school’s number one news source. Zayn Malik can’t be pleased with the competition.

Camila’s afraid of them all and, as John explains what’s about to happen, she chances a glance at Lauren and sees her tapping her right foot. It’s probably her alternative to shaking her right leg, but realizing Lauren is anxious doesn’t ease her nerves for once. Not when there are these many hands up in the air already and John hasn’t even finished talking.

Mr. Keating approaches a girl close to him with a microphone in hand. She’s a chubby little thing, with copper-blonde hair and freckles all over her nose and cheeks.

“Hi,” she says, her voice unnaturally high. “This question is to both Lauren and Camila. I know you’re rivals, but what do you like or admire most about the other?”

Camila gulps, eyes widened, and she exchanges a look with Lauren, who’s mirroring her expression. Camila has to wonder if Lauren’s mind is filled with the same thoughts as hers.

How Lauren may bite her and taunt her during sex, but she’s always always the center of Lauren’s universe until they’re done.

How Lauren kisses her like she means it, doesn’t matter what they’re feeling at the time.

How Lauren’s hair is so thick and soft that her fingers haven’t stopped craving the sensation of it since the first time they’ve touched it.

How Lauren challenges her.

“Camila, let’s start with you,” John calls, bringing her back to the present moment.

“I—” she croaks. The silence in the room is deafening. So many people and all she can hear is her own heartbeat. “I admire the way Lauren fights so hard for her beliefs. She, uh, she is very passionate and that’s…” Camila drifts off, not wanting to say ‘inspiring’. It would be counter-productive. “Commendable,” she finishes, lamely.

“Lauren?”

“Camila Cabello is one of the most intelligent people I have ever met.”

Camila turns to her so fast she gets whiplash, and it takes monumental self-control for her not to gape at Lauren, discretion be damned. Lauren doesn’t acknowledge her but Camila can tell that she feels her eyes on her.

Mrs. James is moving towards her side of the auditorium now and Camila knows nothing good is to be expected when she spots a sophomore boy, typical class clown, drumming the mic with his finger to check if it’s working.

“Hey, do you guys maybe want to explain what’s with all the sexual tension?” he asks, too fast so the teacher doesn’t have time to do anything.

The room explodes in whoops and whistles, people laughing and clapping in whatever direction she turns to.

Camila swallows, clasping and unclasping her hands, and she isn’t brave enough to look at Lauren, not now.

“That’s no—” Lauren begins, annoyance seeping through in spades even with just one word.

“You don’t have to answer that,” John cuts, placing his fingers on her arm to stop her. “Guys, this is a debate to give you a chance to find out who’s the best candidate to become our student body president. Whatever doubts you have about the candidates’ personal lives, leave them out of this space.”

Camila offers John a small smile for that, watches as Lauren nods at him with her lips pursed and shoulders tense.

The next few questions are normal enough. Camila thinks Lauren is doing better than her for this part. She is relatable, but naturally so, engaging with the students with warmth and care, her smiles candid and honest. She seems a lot calmer now, the illusion of the one-on-one conversations bringing her closer to her comfort zone.

Camila, on the other hand, can’t even explain how she’s still standing. All she wants to do is curl up behind the podium with her head on her knees and not come out until the place is empty and Normani or Dinah rescue her.

“Lauren,” a husky female voice Camila doesn’t recognize says, “what made you decide to run against Camila?”

“Honestly?” The auditorium chants a chorus of ‘yes’ that makes Camila cringe. “She turned me into a social pariah when I refused to have lunch with her because I was already sitting with my friend.” Lauren winks at the girl who’d asked the question. “Petty, right? I don’t condone that sort of behavior so I fought back, and the more I fought back, the more I found reasons to keep doing it. Now here we are.”

Camila grinds her teeth to prevent herself from snapping, gaze firmly locked on Mrs. James passing the microphone across a row so it reaches a Muslim-American girl from junior year. “On that note,” she starts, the guy next to her holding the microphone for her, “Camila, how has it been for you to have a competitor that actually poses a challenge?”

“Yes, Cabello,” Lauren butts in, with a teasing smile, “do let us know. How has it been?”

Camila glares at her, before returning her attention back to the asker. “It was fun in the beginning. I like a good challenge, it forces me to work harder and be better.” She pauses, choosing her words carefully. “Then something shifted and it became… difficult. It’s been a very rough campaign and I’m glad it’s coming to a close.”

“Rough, huh? I wonder who made it like that,” Lauren snarks, to the audience’s delight.

Camila doesn’t reply, concentrating on inhaling and exhaling. She accepts that Lauren is a good opponent. Her campaign points are valid and she has ideas worth listening to. But she would be lying if she said it didn’t bother her that Lauren resorts so often to these tricks and jabs to bring a reaction out of her. There’s something unprofessional about Lauren’s approach, the way it’s shocking and overt instead of a play planned and executed from behind the scenes, and Camila still has a hard time figuring out what to do with it.

“Last question!” John announces to the boos of the crowd and Camila’s sigh of relief.

A very short-lived sigh of relief for when she focuses on Mr. Keating, he’s handing the microphone to none other than Liam Payne.

If Camila’s mood had been getting darker and darker as the hour passed by, now it’s reached a whole new level of ire that she really wishes no one had to see. Camila is starting to think that Mr. Keating has something against her because this isn’t normal. First he puts her with Lauren for the AP Lit assignment and now he chooses Liam fucking Payne to ask a question out of over 250 students?

_Bullshit._

“For both Lauren and Camila,” Liam says, and just the sound of his voice drives Camila mad. “What do you think are your personal qualities that would best serve the presidency?”

“Funny you, of all people, should ask that,” she sneers, unable to contain herself. “Are you hoping to compare _more_ notes on us?”

The whole room erupts with shocked gasps.

“Let’s go with Lauren first for this one,” John declares, gesturing to shush the audience.

“Personal qualities?” Lauren repeats, running her hand through her hair. “I would say that I never back down from a challenge and that I’m fiercely against injustice. I have the dedication and motivation it takes to change this school for the better. I believe that high school doesn’t have to be a horrible experience that the majority wants to fast-forward through. I’m committed to improving the environment to make sure that every last student here has the best experience.”

“Camila?”

“This is my fourth year at Greenwich and I have been involved with school politics since the beginning. I know the inner workings of the school like the palm of my hand and I’ve used that to achieve victories for the students.”

“Those are not personal qualities,” Lauren mocks, arching an eyebrow.

“If you’d let me finish, I would’ve gotten there,” she snaps, eyes narrowing at Lauren. “I am one of the hardest-working people in this school, I am goal-oriented and I always aim higher.”

“Aim higher as in, step on everything in sight to get to the top?”

“This might be tough on your comprehension skills,” Camila growls, desperately grasping at the last straws of her sanity, “but while you may work to reach the top, other people need to be happy to have you there, and to keep you there.”

“Other people need to be happy to have you there?!” Lauren scoffs, turning her body to Camila. “Being afraid of going against you for fear of the consequences isn’t ‘happy to have you there’!”

“I was elected—”

“With what, the votes of your little Clique? No one ran against you!”

“—and I proceeded to fulfill every single promise I made in my campaign. Why do you think the Greenwich Foundation had more money for scholarships this year? Who do you think pushed for better food in the cafeteria?!” Camila is one provocation away from crossing the stage and pulling Lauren’s hair out until she’s bald.

“You expect me to believe you’ve done any of that when half of the students in this school have horror stories involving you?”

“And do you expect me to just stand here and listen to you questioning _everything_ I have ever done for this school? What do you want? A pat on the back and kudos? A written statement of acceptance that you would be a good replacement?” Camila shoots back, now also shifted to face Lauren, audience all but forgotten. “I have given my blood, my sweat, my heart and my tears to Greenwich! I grew up here and I’ve been working my ass off since _day one_ to make it a better school — a school up to the highest educational standards, up to _my_ standards!”

“Yeah, I’m sure your ambitions and hard work have been real selfless and with everyone’s interests in mind,” Lauren snarls, using air quotes to drive the sarcasm home.

The effort it takes for Camila not to commit murder right then is inhumane.

“Oh, so there is something wrong with me for being ambitious and hard-working, but there’s nothing wrong with how you drank and slept your way through Miami until you ended up in rehab?!” she finally explodes, her chest rumbling and crashing like an earthquake, anger tightening her throat and making it hard to breathe. “Very presidential,” Camila adds, taking a step away from the podium to be closer to Lauren. She curls her fingers into fists and lowers her voice to a cruel whisper so only Lauren can hear, “Your father would be so proud.”

The moment she says it, Camila knows it was the wrong thing to say.

She brings her hands up to cover her lips but it’s too late, the words have already found their way out and they’re written all over Lauren’s face: in the impossibly light color of her eyes, brightened by unshed tears; in the way her mouth snaps shut and she turns back to the audience, back straight and head held high.

Camila is vaguely aware of John starting to speak in the meanwhile, nudging her to the side so she’s standing on her podium again as he closes the debate, but all she can do is stare at Lauren, regret gnawing at her chest until it’s all she feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hang in there, my pretties, the election is coming and then the healing can begin <3


	17. the election

Lauren doesn’t know how she makes it through the conclusion of the debate, but she refuses to run away before John finishes his closing speech. She will not give Camila or this school the satisfaction. As she stares straight ahead, careful not to make eye contact with anyone, she feels every inch of her burn with hurt and she can feel the cracks inside of her, barely holding back the waterworks.

As soon as John is done, she bolts without a backward glance, desperate to get out of this toxic school. She’s striding across the pavement towards the parking lot, the hot sun beating down on her mercilessly when she hears her name being called.

The voice that calls it used to fill her stomach with butterflies but all it does now is burn her up inside out.

“Lauren, wait, please wait!”

Lauren is inclined to ignore her, but she thinks she deserves to give Camila a last piece of her mind before she leaves.

She stops and spins around to face Camila, who also stops a few feet away, staring at Lauren with wide, cautious eyes.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to say that, I don’t know why I did,” she stumbles miserably over her words and it only makes Lauren angrier.

“Save it,” she snaps and thankfully, Camila shuts her trap before Lauren goes and loses her damn mind. She takes a deep breath and concentrates hard on keeping the tears from falling. “Every time I think there’s absolutely nothing left that you can do to shock me, you go and fucking surprise me, Camila.” She lets out a short, dry laugh and shakes her head. Camila has the decency to look ashamed. “I know what you’re capable of and how far you’re willing to go, but I still never thought you were capable of this. I never thought you would use something I told you in confidence against me. A piece of me that I trusted you with and you just threw it back in my face. I’m the fool though, shame on me for ever trusting someone like you.”

Camila lowers her gaze from Lauren’s heated one.

Lauren watches her for a few seconds. “I wish you had asked me about Liam instead of going nuts and drawing your own insane conclusions. I never did anything with him. I never cared about him. Maybe if you had asked we wouldn’t be here.”

Camila winces visibly and lifts her eyes, looking tormented. She opens her mouth, probably to apologize, but Lauren doesn’t give her the chance.

“I actually thought you had some redeeming qualities, but you proved me wrong,” she spits. “I can only imagine what you did and where you went to dig up that information about me.” Lauren takes a moment to breathe. “And yeah, you’re right, Camila, my father wouldn’t be proud of me. He probably would’ve wanted me to take care of my younger siblings and my mother after he passed away, but instead I went down a self-destructive path. It’s a part of my life that I’m deeply ashamed of and wish I could take back. So, yeah, there it is. Are you proud of yourself?”

Camila looks at her with a deeply mortified face, bright brown eyes blank with tears. Lauren feels absolutely nothing but pain and rage. She starts to back away.

“You know what? I can’t do this ridiculous dance with you anymore,” Lauren’s voice cracks on the last word and her vision blurs. She has to take a moment to collect herself. “I’m tired, Camila, and it’s not fucking worth it anymore. You can have it: the election, this school, it’s all yours, you can shove it up your ass for all I care. I don’t give a fuck anymore. Just… leave me alone, ok? Leave me the fuck alone.”

She turns on her heels and walks away.

Lauren isolates herself from the world throughout the weekend, staying off social media and throwing her phone in the bottom of her drawer. She spends the days in bed, marathoning a shitty show on netflix to distract her distressed mind.

When Monday rolls around, she doesn’t find the energy to give a flying fuck about attendance. She knows she’s nursing a broken heart, but she struggles with admitting it to herself.

To her surprise, she gets a visit by all her friends after school hours. She stares at them standing on the steps of her door with various degrees of concern on their faces.

“Surprise!” Ally says with a toothy grin. “I thought you could use some company.”

“You alright, Lauren?” Shaun asks, studying her.

“Can we come in?” Ian asks.

Lauren sighs deeply and moves aside to give them room to enter. “You guys are ridiculous,” she says with a soft smile and shows them the way to her room, realizing it’s the first time she has all three of them at once in her house.

Shaun and Ally climb onto her bed and Ian sinks into the office chair by her desk.

“We brought snacks,” Shaun says and fishes out Lauren’s favorite chips before slinging the goody bag on the ground. “You look like you could use them.”

“You look sick,” Ian comments, and Lauren can’t even be offended; she knows she looks pale and tired.

Ally reaches for her and pulls her down next to her. “Your phone has been off since Friday. It’s been impossible to get in contact with you, are you alright?”

They’re all watching her and Lauren can’t find it in herself to lie. So, she shrugs and says, “Honestly? No, I feel like shit.”

Ally squeezes her arm comfortingly and Shaun reaches across the bed to pat her on the back.

“What happened in the debate?” he asks cautiously. “What was that bullshit Camila was spouting off?”

Lauren takes a shaky breath and opens her bag of chips, throwing a few in her mouth. “It wasn’t bullshit. It was all true.” Apparently, she’s in an honest mood today.

“What?” Ally whispers, surprised.

Lauren shrugs a bit. “My father died a couple of years back and it… it destroyed me.” She glances at her friends and finds nothing but sympathy, even Ian who usually can’t convey a single emotion has a softer look on his face. It gives her the courage to keep talking, “The pain was maddening and the only way I could make it stop was by drinking and fucking until I passed out. It got really, really bad and I… um, I had to go to rehab for the summer to get it under control. Then I changed schools and now I’m here.” She scoffs softly. “I thought I could leave all that behind but of course Camila goes and digs it up again.”

Ally has her smashed into her chest in a tight hug before she realizes it. “Oh my God,” Ally’s voice sounds wet with tears. “I’m so sorry, that sounds horrible. I’m so glad you told me.”

Shaun joins into the hug and Ian reaches out to pat her knee awkwardly. It makes Lauren feel loved and she feels the familiar sting of tears.

“How does Camila even know that?” Ian asks.

Lauren sniffs. “Um, I guess I told her. About my father at least, I don’t know how she found out about the rest. Probably the same way she found those drunk photos of me.”

“You told her?” Shaun repeats, rightfully confused. “Why would you ever do that knowing that she would do anything to win?”

“Guys… that’s not important right now,” Ally admonishes.

“It’s ok,” Lauren mutters. “You guys should know. I’ve been fooling around with Camila for a little while and I came to trust her.”

There’s complete silence for a second or two, then Shaun exclaims, “Whoa! _Whoa_!” He looks at Ian wide-eyed. “You were right all along!”

Ian smirks. “You owe me 100 bucks.”

Shaun pouts. “Aw, I’m broke, I never thought you’d actually be right.”

Lauren blinks. “You made a bet?”

“Yes,” Ian responds matter-of-factly, and Shaun looks sheepish.

“I know that it sounds bad under the current circumstances, but it was harmless, I swear.”

“Jesus,” Lauren lets out a soft chuckle. “I’m too tired to even be mad right now.”

“She really betrayed your trust,” Ally says, stroking her fingers through Lauren’s hair. “I’m so sorry.”

“I can’t wait for the look on her face when she loses tomorrow!” Shaun crows.

Lauren shakes her head. “Nah, I don’t care about the election anymore. I don’t want anything to do with it.”

“What?” Shaun exclaims, shocked, “You can’t mean that! You have a real chance of winning and you wanna bow out? You really want to give her this win after what she did to you?”

“You’re so close, Lauren,” Ally says fiercely. “Everyone who’s voting for you is counting on you. They believe in you. _We_ believe in you!”

Lauren looks around at her friends. “I’m sorry, guys, I really don’t care what happens tomorrow.”

“But you’re going to show up, aren’t you?” Shaun asks.

“I don’t know,” Lauren replies honestly. “We’ll see and I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

Her friends look like they have a million things to say but for once, they read her face and realize that it’s best to back down for now.

It takes everything in Lauren to go to school the next day. She doesn’t want her mother to find out that she’s faking her sickness and skipping out on school; she doesn’t want to put her through the same worry as she had done before.

So she picks her ass up and forces herself to walk through the damned gates of Greenwich Academy. She tries to keep a low profile, but it’s impossible since the election ends after school and she can feel everything and everyone buzzing with anticipation.

She’s on her way to her second class when she’s approached by a small, timid girl with braces.

“Hi,” she says, shyly. “I’m Samantha. I just want to tell you that you’ve inspired me to run for class president next year. I hope you win today. Good luck!”

She isn’t the last one to come up to Lauren to tell her good luck. She receives a lot, both in person and in twitter dms. They’re predominantly from the wallflowers and ‘outcasts’ of the school, their messages echoing the same sentiment: that she inspires them, thanking her for running and wishing her good luck. By the end of the school hours, Lauren is touched and finds herself making her way to the auditorium, head held high and with her friends by her side.

She’s fought tooth and nail for this, used countless hours preparing and campaigning and planning, and she deserves to be there as much as anyone else.

As she finds a seat in the front rows, she locks eyes with Camila for a moment. She hasn’t talked to or seen her since Friday but apparently the girl had been trying to get in contact with Lauren, shocking her with the amount of missed calls and messages once she finally turned her phone back on.

Lauren finds herself zoning in and out of John’s opening speech, because she honestly doesn’t care to hear about Greenwich’s history of elections and how much student body presidents have contributed to the school. She feels a bit sick to her stomach with nerves and she just wants this to be over so she can get on with her life.

Shaun squeezes her hand and gives her a thumbs up, mouthing, “You got this.”

Lauren responds with a queasy smile and nods.

She snaps to attention when the principal comes onto the stage to officially announce the winner of the student body presidential election. It feels as if the whole room is holding its breath and Lauren feels a bit dizzy, barely noticing Ally’s comforting hand on hers.

“And the winner of this year’s student body election is…” The principal holds a dramatic pause and Lauren gets the urge to fly on stage and kick his balls. “...Camila Cabello!”

The room erupts into noise, a deafening mixture of clapping, cheers, protests and booing, but it all sounds like white noise to Lauren’s ears. Her face remains perfectly neutral as she comes to the realization that she wasn’t as unconcerned about the results as she had thought — the disappointment settling heavy inside of her tells her otherwise.

“Bullshit!” Shaun exclaims indignantly. “I can’t believe this rigged bullshit!”

“Quiet, can I have some order in here?!” the principal says into the microphone as he tries to silence the masses fruitlessly. “Will Camila Cabello come up here? Camila Cabello?”

Lauren turns her head and finds Camila with her eyes. She looks shell-shocked and Dinah has to physically pull her to her feet to snap her out of it. She makes her way up to the stage, looking shaky around the edges.

The principal meets her to shake her hand in congrats and she tells him something that makes him look perplexed. He hands her the piece of paper with the results and Camila scans it with a deep frown.

She gets on the podium and looks over at her peers who have finally calmed down. She seems almost overwhelmed.

“Wow, I really didn’t expect to be standing here today,” she admits, much to everyone’s surprise. ”The principal just handed me the paper with the results and the voter participation was 727 out of 800 students, which I’m willing to bet is the highest in the history of Greenwich. And even with this turnout, I only won by—” she pauses to do the math on her fingers, “—eight votes. Is it even a victory with this margin?”

The audience gets noisy again but it’s hard to make out anything they’re saying.

“Hell no, it isn’t,” Lauren hears Shaun mutter.

Camila clears her throat and the crowd goes silent, eager to hear what she has to say. “You know, I actually had a speech prepared. Two, in fact, one for if I won and one for if I lost. I wrote them both when I was preparing for the debate but they no longer express how I feel, so I’ll just wing it and hope I’m not as bad at improvisation as I think I am.”

Lauren sits up straighter in her chair, baffled by this turn of events. Camila doesn’t look her confident self, she looks nervous and unsure.

“Lauren has run an extraordinary, ruthless campaign, and I can honestly say I have _never_ , in my entire life, felt angrier than I did these past few weeks.” The audience laughs and Lauren looks at Ally who mirrors her confused expression. “But Lauren had a point. It _is_ kind of senseless to have such a structured and rigid social hierarchy in school. What do we gain from it? I mean, don’t mind me, I can’t help it that I’m so popular, and I’m comfortable in my place at the top of the food chain, but is that what is best for everyone? I don’t think it is.”

“What the fuck is she doing?” Lauren hisses. She isn’t amused. She hadn’t expected anything like this and she doesn’t like to be blindsided. Leave it to Camila Cabello to surprise her again and again.

“I don’t know,” Shaun whispers. “I wish I had popcorn. This is getting good.”

Lauren rolls her eyes and smacks him.

“I’ve seen a lot of things in this school that shouldn’t happen anywhere. Despite common belief — and there are so many things going around that are blatant lies, I am _livid_ that people fabricate such stories —, I haven’t been violent with anyone, I haven’t openly insulted anyone… Well, anyone that isn’t Lauren, let’s be honest.” The audience roars with laughter, obviously eating this up. “But I have ostracized students, I have stood by and done nothing knowing there are students here who are bullied, who wake up in the morning and feel sick at the idea of coming to this place, this place that I _love_.

“Whereas my personal experience at Greenwich has been amazing and I am proud of what I’ve achieved, both as a student and as a student body president, I must take responsibility for the fact that I contributed to many people not having the best of experiences here.”

Lauren doesn’t know what to do other than stare open-mouthed and stunned at the girl on the stage, a girl she doesn’t quite recognize, but can’t help but feel some kind of respect for. Never in a million years would Lauren have thought Camila would own up to her wrong doings in such a public manner. She has already won, it was the last thing she needed to do.

“It’s one thing to somehow be deemed the so-called queen bee due to popularity or charisma or whatever you want to call it, it’s quite another to use that status to rule with an iron fist.

“Lauren, she… She’s made me look at myself and the truth is, I’m not proud of so many things I’ve done lately…” Camila lets out a self-deprecating chuckle. “I caught myself looking in the mirror the other day, after the debate, asking ‘who are you? is this who you’ve become? is this who you want to be?’ And well, surprising even myself, the answer is no.

“So I want to apologize to everyone who’s ever been personally victimized by me, directly or indirectly. And Lauren — where is she?” As all eyes turn on Lauren, she wishes she could make her chair swallow her up. She forces herself to lock eyes with Camila. “Lauren, I am _so_ sorry for everything that you know I’ve done and that I can’t publicly admit because it would get me in trouble.” That really gets the crowd going, someone even whistles loudly in the background. “I am so so sorry for the awful things I said to you and about you, you didn’t… you don’t deserve any of that.”

Camila pauses to take a deep breath. “So yeah, I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m renouncing the student body presidency.” The whole auditorium gasps and Lauren hears Dinah exclaim _‘oh no she didn’t!’_ “I concede the title to Lauren Jauregui and she is your new president by right.”

The reaction to that makes the whole room rumble and whether it’s positive or negative, Lauren can’t tell.

“Thank you to everyone who’s followed this electoral campaign and especially to everyone who voted. It’s been an honor to serve as your president.”

Camila offers the crowd a small smile and then she walks off the stage and out of the room. Lauren’s first instinct is to follow her, but she’s frozen on the spot as everyone goes wild around her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry u guys for the slightly late update but here we finally are! what a cliffhanger! how many of you expected that to happen?
> 
> i promise the healing will start in the next chapter and things will get better, just hang in there!
> 
> leave kudos and comments. we love that shit.


	18. the calm after the storm

Camila makes it to her car before she checks her phone. Dinah is too curious to come running after her before she gets the chance to see Lauren’s reaction — it’s good that she’s like this, Camila wants to know too. Normani could go either way, which is the only reason Camila is opening Whatsapp and the Clique group chat.

 **China Jane [4:16pm]** _BISH U DID NOT!!!!!!!!!_

 **China Jane [4:16pm]** _WTF IS HAPPENKNG HSJDKSHSDASL_

 **China Jane [4:16pm]** _ok walz ily but i gotta watch lauser with her saucer wide eyes addressing the school lmao_

 **Mani [4:18pm]** _Yeah, Mila. This is too good to pass up._

 **Mani [4:19pm]** _We’ll spill the tea later._

 **China Jane [4:20pm]** _dinner tonight at mani’s her parents won’t be home_

 **Mani [4:22pm]** _Come at 7._

 **China Jane [4:23pm]** _DON’T EVEN THINK OF NOT SHOWING UP_

 **China Jane [4:23pm]** _I’LL GO TO UR HOUSE AND DRAG U BY THAT GIANT ASS OF URS_

 **Mani [4:24pm]** _Hope you’re okay, baby. Talk soon._

Camila laughs at her friends’ antics, already feeling better about the whole situation. After the way Lauren had reacted to the debate, winning the election had become secondary to her, almost an afterthought. Considering the polls and the wave of support for Lauren, she really wasn’t expecting to win, she didn’t even practice her winning speech on the days leading up to the election.

Turns out you can’t be sure of an election result until it happens.

Hearing her name be called had been… shocking, to say the least. She can’t even remember walking to the stage, all she recalls is _‘ask for the results, ask for the results'_ going around in circles in her head, drowning everything else. As soon as she’d set her eyes on the election numbers, there wasn’t much to consider. Camila knew what she had to do.

Now she just needs to gather courage to face her friends and come up with something to tell them. There is no way Dinah will be letting her off the hook this time.

 

 

 

Normani opens the front door and pulls Camila into a hug so tight it knocks the wind out of her lungs.

“Mani,” she whines, patting her back awkwardly, “you saw me literally three hours ago.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Normani lets her go and starts moving towards the kitchen, gesturing for Camila to follow. “You know I worry so it’s good to see you here and looking… well, not depressed or in shock or something.”

“Wow, Mani, positive much? I am touched by your faith in me.” Camila rolls her eyes and she’s about to hide her hands in the pockets of her hoodie, but then she realizes there are two pizza boxes on the kitchen table. “Ohhh, you already ordered the pizzas?” She starts jumping up and down and kisses Normani’s cheek. “Where’s Dinah? I am _starving_.”

“She said she’d drop by your house to make sure you didn’t stand us up.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Camila laughs and, in typical Dinah fashion, that’s the moment they hear loud bangs at the door. “Oh my god, will she ever learn to be subtle?”

Normani gives her a look that clearly says _‘we’ll both be dead before Dinah even manages to speak at an acceptable volume’_ and goes to the foyer.

“Hello, bitches,” Dinah greets, flipping her hair as she power-walks inside. “Your pride and joy is here, but more importantly, where’s the pizza?”

“In the kitchen,” Normani says, closing the door. “Can we eat and talk though? I don’t want to wait any longer.”

“Duh,” Camila replies, separating the slices as Dinah arrives and smiles at her. “How did Lauren react?”

“You didn’t see her?” Dinah asks, taking a seat next to her. “Girl, you bolted outta there _fast_.” She cackles and Normani shoves her, mouthing _‘be nice’_ in a not-so-discreet way. “Well, it took a few minutes for the audience to chill, people went nuts!”

“Yeah, everyone was talking over everyone else and Lauren was called on stage and she just stood there awkwardly waiting for people to shut up. It was crazy.”

“Are there pictures of this?” Camila asks, with a chuckle. “I’m kinda curious about the look on her face.”

Dinah stands up to get her phone from her bag and scrolls for a minute, passing it to Camila once she’s done. “Here. The gossip twitter had a field day today.”

Camila looks at @sipthegreentea’s timeline and, sure enough, it would seem like whoever runs it had never had a better day in their life. They’d livetweeted the event almost minute by minute.

**@sipthegreentea Camila is publicly apologizing to Lauren?????? WUT!!!!???**

**@sipthegreentea she can’t say what she did wrong? Hmm I think there’s been some girl-on-girl crime here**

**@sipthegreentea SHE JUST RENOUNCED THE PRESIDENCY DGHAJFDJHKFSKL**

**@sipthegreentea I SHIT YOU NOT GUYS CAMILA CABELLO JUST GAVE UP THE PRESIDENCY TO LAUREN JAUREGUI JNDSKAKYT;LA;DS;L**

**@sipthegreentea SHE JUST RAN OUT THE STAGE WTF IS HAPPENING**

**@sipthegreentea IM SCREAMING LAUREN LOOKS LIKE A LOST PUPPY ON THAT STAGE LOOK AT HERRRRRR**

And, of course, following an introduction like that, there’s a collection of tweets with photos of Lauren. Camila is quite sure that if she flicked through the sequence fast enough, it would showcase that funny optical illusion of movement, with Lauren opening and closing her mouth. She seems as shocked as the rest of the school must have felt, if not more.

Passing the phone back to Dinah, she says, “I hope her speech wasn’t as good as mine.”

“She didn’t stand a chance, Mila,” Normani tells her, a hand covering her mouth as she munches on a slice. “Maybe she had a victory speech prepared, but no one prepares for ‘ _your worst enemy literally just walked out on their legitimate win for your sake_ ’.”

“Yeah, she was stuttering like a boy caught watching porn for a full minute.” Dinah laughs. “Stop monopolizing the Hawaiian pizza, Chancho! Pass me a slice.”

“And she seemed to be looking around for you? Maybe she thought you’d go back to your seat.”

“Okay, but what did she say?”

“She went on for a looooong time about you and your past achievements. Like, one would think she was your campaign manager or something.” Dinah shrugs. “Then of course she went on a rant about promoting an inclusive environment and how she was planning to do that and bla bla bla.”

“She also thanked her team and everyone who voted for her, obviously.” Normani tilts her head, studying Camila’s pensive expression. “Seemed intent on promising she’d do her best to be worthy of those who didn’t vote for her, too.”

“But anyways,” Dinah drawls, turning her body to Camila, who gulps and becomes even more fascinated with the pizza in front of them, “this is old news to us. We want the actual tea. Spill.”

“What do you mean?” Camila asks, cheeks full like a hamster’s to add to the faux innocence in her tone of voice. “You were there the whole time, you saw everything.”

“Mila,” Normani counters warningly, rolling her eyes. “Why did you go through hell for _weeks_ only to give up the presidency to Lauren?”

Camila swallows, the motion both visible and audible to the other girls, and she takes a moment to dwell on her words. “I thought I was gonna lose. The polls have been pretty clear on that for the past week or so.” She fiddles with the pizza box, for once uncomfortable with how the attention is on her. “When the principal called my name, I… I was in shock, and I didn’t really have time to think much, I just asked him to show me the results and like, a difference of eight votes?” Camila shrugs, bringing a little bit of the pizza crust to her lips. “I just figured if that was the difference between us, it would be more useful for me to renounce the presidency and remain in the good graces of the school. This way I still have people’s respect _and_ I can go back to the clubs I gave up on because I didn’t want to be swamped for senior year.”

The silence that follows her explanation is deafening and Camila chances a glance at her friends. Normani is looking at her with so much disappointment that Camila winces, and Dinah… Dinah is just blinking at her, but she’s doing it in such an intense way that Camila can almost _hear_ it.

It makes her nervous.

“Karla Camila Cabello Estrabao!” she finally shouts, so loud and commanding it reverberates through the entire kitchen. Camila shrinks in her chair. “I didn’t put up with losers glaring at me in the school corridors like I’m some sort of satanic incarnation for you to pull this stunt in the end!” She slams her hand on the table. “I was with Lauren when you slut-shamed her on twitter, I saw her face! I was there in the debate when you whispered something that completely shut her down and I saw _your_ face!

“Don’t you dare play me like this, Camila, or I swear to god I’ll give you a Poly beatdown so massive you’ll change color!”

Camila recoils, distancing herself from Dinah. She focuses her eyes on the pizza stubbornly, willing herself not to cry.

“Dinah…” Normani cautions.

“Don’t Dinah me now, Mani!” she says, still out of control. “I have been watching my best friend spiral in a pit of anxiety for _weeks_! Doing shit that is out of character and downright problematic! Do you people think I’m stupid? I’ve been patient ‘cause I know you need your time to come clean about things that worry you, but Camila Cabello renouncing an election that she actually won? When you know — when everybody knows! — that you are a hella great president? And when that is something that would look stellar in your college applications? This isn’t you!” Dinah is gesticulating wildly and Normani signals for her to tone it down, without success. “What the fuck is going on?”

“I don’t know what you’re expecting me to say,” Camila whispers, still not looking up.

“Just tell me why you renounced the presidency. No bullshit.”

“I hurt her.”

“What?”

“I hurt Lauren,” Camila says, a bit louder this time. “I, uh — she confided in me with something that was important to her and I was so mad in the debate that I threw it in her face. She’s refused to talk to me ever since.” She frowns, lifting her gaze to Dinah. “I wasn’t going to give up the presidency if the results were clearly in my favor, but they weren’t, so…” She offers a self-deprecating smile. “I figured it was my shot at redemption.”

“So what? So Lauren forgives you?” Normani asks, brows furrowed.

Camila shrugs. “After all I’ve done to her… I’m not sure I deserve her forgiveness.”

“Walz—”

“Wait, so you care about Lauren’s feelings?” Normani prods, shaking her head as if trying to understand what she’s hearing. “When did that happen?”

“Recently?” Camila tries. She feels very hot and she knows she’s blushing as soon as she sees Dinah lifting one eyebrow. “We, uh, I— the AP Lit assignment a couple of weeks ago. Yeah, that was when we, uh, grew closer, I guess.”

“How close, Chancho?” Dinah insists. “Why you so red all of a sudden?”

“Uh, hum, close?” she whimpers, eyes darting everywhere and fingers fidgeting with the slices left in the pizza box. “We got to talking and we have some things in common.”

“Mila, please, you’re not fooling anyone,” Dinah teases, punching her shoulder lightly. “Just admit you have a thing for Lauser, it’s not like we’ll tell anyone.”

“I hate you,” she growls, rolling up a slice to try and fit it whole in her mouth. “Fine, I like Lauren, is that what you wanted to hear? Can we move on?”

“Eww.” Dinah grimaces, turning to face Normani instead. “No need to be disgusting, Mila. I just wanted you to let it out of your chest.” She grins, exchanging a look with Normani. “How does it feel to be out of the closet?”

“Oh my god, Dinah, why are we talking about closets? I haven’t even thought about that!”

“So, were you two making out in the bathroom that day at the club?” Dinah asks, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Yes! Can you leave me alone now?” Camila harrumphs. “Mani, can you please help me with her?”

“Actually, I think this conversation is long overdue.” Normani smirks, leaning over the table. “I want all the details.”

“Do I even have a choice?”

Normani and Dinah look at each other and then at her with matching grins. “No.”

“Ugh.” Camila scoffs, leaning back on the chair and crossing her arms. “What do you want to know?”

“How many times did you make out? And who went there first?” Dinah asks, at the same time that Normani goes, “When did the feelings thing start?”

Camila sighs and pointedly stares at a cupboard. “I kissed her first, at that party I threw at the beginning of the year. We had sex three times and—”

“You had sex three times?!” Normani and Dinah screech in unison.

“Hum, yes?” Camila flushes, not having it in herself to find the gaping expressions of her friends funny at the moment. “It’s not like I was planning on it, she just sort of… went for it and I let her. Well, for the first two times anyway.”

“Holy shit, Walz, you had sex with Lauren, I can’t believe!” Dinah’s eyes are more widened than Camila thought possible and, after a beat, she starts laughing hysterically. Normani tries to get her to stop but the three of them just end up laughing all together for minutes in a row.

“Was it good?” Normani manages to ask after they’ve quieted down.

“If you mean in terms of orgasms, then yes,” Camila answers, bashful and self-conscious. “If you mean in terms of how it made me feel, then not really. That’s why my anxiety got worse.”

“Hold on, Mila, I’m still reeling about the sex situation, so let me enjoy this before we get to the serious stuff.”

Camila glares at her. “Glad my personal life amuses you.”

“Come on, you go from ‘only ever had unsatisfying vanilla sex with my boyfriend of two years’ to having sex with your sworn enemy, all while the entire school is drinking up the drama you put up front like you’re disgusted with each other!” Dinah claps her hands. “This is iconic!”

“I’m sorry, but Dinah is right on this one,” Normani says, reaching for her forearm sympathetically. “I mean, after that night at the club when you guys disappeared together, I felt something changing between you two, but I had no idea it was… to this extent.”

“Yeah, like, I knew you weren’t strictly into guys ‘cause no one gets that into lady kissing when playing Truth or Dare,” Dinah teases, winking at a flustered Camila. “It’s been a while ‘cause you got boring when you started dating Liam, but I haven’t forgotten! Though from there to a full on crush on Lauren Jauregui, well…”

“When did you find out you were attracted to her?”

Camila hides her face behind her hands. “I’ve found her hot since pretty much day one,” she says, her palms muffling her voice. She slowly drags her fingers down her cheeks and stares at her friends. “Can you blame me though? Have you even looked at her?!”

Normani smiles and Dinah nods with unnecessary enthusiasm. “You have good taste in ladies, Chancho,” she declares, like a proud mama. “Much better than in boys.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“And the feelings?” Normani persists.

“If I answer that, can we drop this subject?”

Dinah says ‘no’ as Normani says ‘yes’ and they exchange a look that culminates with Dinah rolling her eyes and huffing.

“Good,” Camila says, side-eyeing Dinah. “That night at the club was… a mess. What I told you on the phone at the time was mostly true, China, except that after the slap came some, uh, sex. And I never felt so dirty in my life, it was _awful_.” She shudders, nesting into Dinah as the girl pulls her closer. “It’s not that the sex was bad, it was just the entire situation that was very upsetting to me. So I had a panic attack when I got home and that forced me to think about why I was so affected by the whole thing. And yeah, after that phone call, I grabbed a notebook and made a list of everything Lauren makes me feel — and no, there is _no way_ you two will ever set eyes on that list.”

“You suck,” Dinah grumbles, to Normani’s agreement.

“Anyway, that list was eye-opening and suddenly I found myself with feelings for Lauren while being Lauren’s most hated person.”

“I don’t think she hates you,” Dinah interrupts. “I mean, she’d have good reason to after the awful shit you pulled in the debate. And also everything else, let’s be real. But the way she looks at you when she thinks no one’s watching hasn’t changed.”

“I think she used to hate me but she stopped. For a while there, at least. Now, who knows?” Camila half-smiles, not wanting them to see how much the very thought pains her. “Either way, even if she doesn’t, she probably should. The way I’ve treated her, the way I’ve influenced the school to treat her… it’s really not okay.”

“Mila, whatever else happens or doesn’t happen,” Normani starts, moving her chair so she’s on her other side, “just you admitting all that is amazing, okay?”

“Yeah, and stepping down from the presidency, are you shitting me?” Dinah adds. “If Lauser doesn’t acknowledge that, she’s an asshole.”

“I didn’t do it for her to acknowledge me,” Camila is quick to rectify. She doesn’t think she did it for that reason, at least. “I did it to stop this madness, the hate from all sides, the tension in the hallways. It got out of hand and so much of it was my fault.” She shuffles away from Dinah’s embrace and steers her chair back so she can look at them both. Her eyes are burning and she hopes she can still speak through the weight in her chest. “Do you get that? Do you see how in my quest to get rid of Lauren, I turned our school into a war zone? _I_ did that, on my own, because the girl I was crushing on wouldn’t sit with me at lunch!”

Dinah looks like she’s about to argue her point but Camila doesn’t let her. “It doesn’t matter, it’s over. I fell for Lauren, stuff happened, and then I got jealous of Liam and made it _worse_.”

“Mila…” Normani whispers, her voice breaking.

“It’s fine, Mani, we can say I’ve learned many valuable lessons, right?” She closes the empty pizza boxes for need of something to do with her shaking hands and flashes them with a brilliant fake grin. “Now I just gotta move on and get over it, so I hope you guys have pretty humans to introduce me to.”

Dinah grimaces, mutters something under her breath that echoes dangerously like ‘but _camren_ ’, and Normani displays one of her compassionate smiles that today aren’t doing anything for Camila.

“Well, that was that,” Dinah says, standing up and cleaning up the table. She sounds like that wasn’t at all _that_ , but Camila can appreciate how she knows when to leave things be. “Should we turn our attention to the other Clique romance then? What is it, normally?”

Camila snickers and, just like that, the wild beating of her heart slows down, and she can breathe again.

 

* * *

 

Camila has taken to studying in the bleachers. Not always, of course: her library corner is still her favorite spot in the whole school. But sometimes she can be found out in the soccer field after classes are done for the day. If someone asks her about it, she’ll tell them she enjoys the fresh air after being indoors or that she needs to keep up her tan. Soccer practice just happens to be the only time of the day it isn’t unbearable to be under the Miami sun.

The truth, however, is that she comes to the bleachers because it’s the only place she can watch Lauren without fearing she will be caught.

It’s been a couple of weeks since the election and Lauren smiles weakly at her if their gazes meet, but that’s the extent of their interactions since then.

Camila would be lying if she said that didn’t hurt her. As much as she’d told her friends she hadn’t renounced the presidency with Lauren’s forgiveness in mind, the way Lauren had carried on as if she didn’t exist makes Camila feel _stupid_.

“You’re staring,” someone says, plopping down next to her.

Camila glances to the side and sighs. “Hernandez.”

“I prefer to go by Ally, but I’ll make an exception for you,” she says, with her easy grin and kind eyes.

She’s still an annoyance as far as Camila is concerned, but Camila’s willing to try, for Normani. “What are you doing here?”

Hernandez points to the corner outside the field lines, where the cheerleaders are practicing. “I have someone to look at, too.”

Camila smiles at that. “I’m happy for you two. I mean it.”

“Thank you!” Hernandez beams and for a second it looks like she’s about to hug Camila, but she thinks better of it and halts. They stay in companionable silence for a few minutes, enough for Camila to focus on the tattoo Lauren has on the nape of her neck and list her regrets.

She’d never gotten to hold Lauren from behind and kiss the dragonfly.

She’d never gotten to make Lauren laugh.

She’d never gotten to know her, all of her, the public and the private, the secret part that maybe only Camila would be allowed to know.

“She misses you too, you know?” Hernandez says softly.

Camila’s instinct is to _deny deny deny_ , but that time has come and gone. She shrugs, biting her lower lip to have some semblance of control over her emotions.

“She’s stubborn and she’s tackling this presidency business like her life depends on it, but I know her and she…” Hernandez takes a deep breath, mulling the words around in her mouth. “She doesn’t have that spark anymore. Before, it would be a mess all the time, but she was so driven and focused and passionate. Now it feels more like she’s just filling a void. I guess she’s tired and ready to move on.”

“There’s nothing wrong with finding constructive ways to fill a void,” Camila offers. She would know a thing or two about that. “I’m really sorry I hurt your friend.”

“Why are you apologizing to me?” Hernandez asks, looking surprised. “She’s the one who needs to hear it.”

“I already apologized to Lauren.”

“Did you?” Hernandez arches an eyebrow, a very doubtful expression on her face. “She didn’t mention anything.”

Camila gulps. “Well, I apologized when I renounced the presidency.”

“Yes, but did you talk to her?”

“…No?”

“Maybe you should,” Hernandez advises, with a compassionate look that irritates Camila.

“I thought she would come and talk to _me_!” Camila snaps, fingers curling into fists. “I know I messed up but then I went and did the right thing and she’s done nothing but ignore me!”

“I, uh, look, I don’t want to be caught in the middle of this… _camren_ business,” Hernandez says, frowning like she can’t believe she just said those words, “but digging up very sensitive, personal information and advertising it to the whole school doesn’t exactly go away with a grand gesture that, let’s face it, cast you in a better light than it did Lauren. Life isn’t a high school movie.”

Camila looks properly chastised, staring off into the field until she spots Dinah and Lauren arguing about something.

“If you care about Lauren in any way,” Hernandez continues, standing up when the cheerleading coach calls for the end of practice, “now is not the time for pride and games.”

She walks away, leaving Camila alone with her thoughts.

 

 

 

Camila spends several days reflecting on Hernandez’s little speech. Her first reaction had been outrage, of course. How dare Hernandez speak to her _and_ give her advice? Normani hadn’t even been present! That had lasted for a whole 24 hours until her brain had zeroed in on an important detail: renouncing the presidency had atoned for her public sins, but not for the private ones.

It _had_ cleaned up her reputation, but to the school. Not to Lauren.

After that, Camila takes a couple of days wondering if it’s worth it to attempt to talk to Lauren. Would she even give Camila a chance to explain herself? She had been unbearably hurt the last time they’d exchanged words, and she rejected and ignored every communication attempt from Camila after the debate. Camila had stopped trying since the election. Maybe she shouldn’t have, but she’s not very good at chasing people.

She concludes that trying to talk to Lauren is only worth it if she wants her forgiveness.

(spoiler alert: she does.)

Coming to that realization is a monster of a task on its own, and Camila hates herself a little. Hates Lauren too, for making her so angry and blind she’d justified despicable acts to herself as if they were acceptable. That is what makes her waste a few extra days pondering if she cares enough to risk yet another rejection.

Not surprisingly, it upsets her that yes, she does care and yes, she should risk another rejection and at least try to make amends with Lauren. Not only try, but she should prioritize Lauren’s comfort and give her the chance to avoid a face-to-face confrontation by letting her decide if she’s willing to meet with Camila or not.

She’d hurt Lauren more than enough to last for a lifetime. It’s the least she can do.

Exactly nine days after Hernandez had approached her in the bleachers, Camila finds herself writing and rewriting a simple text message until she’s satisfied.

_Hi. Could you please meet me tomorrow at 4 in the library corner? I promise I’ll never bother you again._

It’s not her texting style at all, too formal and serious, but it’s her best bet. She sends the message in the evening, when she’s sitting in the living room with her family watching their favorite _telenovela_.

Lauren doesn’t reply. Doesn’t look her way the next day in the hallways either.

Camila goes to the library anyway, her expectations already crushed. She takes off her shoes, pulls out _Milk and Honey_ , and sits with her legs to the side. She makes a conscious decision to leave her phone in her bag. There’s no point in getting herself worked up for nothing.

Three pages later, Camila is worked up anyway because apparently everything in the damn book reminds her of Lauren.

“Hey.”

Camila startles, the book falling to the floor. Lauren picks it up, her thumb sliding across the cover in a careful gesture before she lifts her gaze to look at Camila.

It’s the closest they’ve been in over three weeks and Camila’s heart betrays her by jumping, wild and scared and _hopeful_. She blinks, not quite believing her eyes. “You’re here.”

“You have a tendency to doubt I’ll actually meet you when you ask me to, don’t you?”

Camila frowns, and then she remembers her house party and blushes furiously. “I, uh, er — I don’t actually…”

“It’s fine, Camila,” Lauren interrupts, taking a seat next to her instead of her usual spot on the sofa across. “Why did you ask me here?”

“Can you promise you’ll listen?” Camila asks, before she catches herself. “Please,” she adds, shyly.

“I’ll do my best,” Lauren compromises, her expression soft but apprehensive.

“That’s fine, thank you.” Camila takes a deep breath. “I ramble a little when I’m nervous like this, okay? Don’t worry, it’s— it’s normal.”

Lauren smiles, her eyes twinkling, and _god_ , Camila had missed her so damn much.

“I wanted to apologize. I know! It doesn’t mean much and it doesn’t erase anything. And maybe try to explain, even if motives aren’t excuses.” Camila sighs, holding in the desire to reach for Lauren’s hand. “Lauren, I… I like you, okay? In a definitely not very heterosexual way and sure, you must be thinking I have a strange way of showing it and _fuck_ , this isn’t how I planned this to go at all.”

“Camila,” Lauren calls, eyes widened in surprise. “Breathe. I’m here. You don’t have anything to lose.”

“Yeah, I already lost you,” Camila huffs.

Lauren laughs and Camila’s chest expands. The sound of her _laugh_. “Smooth, Cabello.”

“I’m sorry, okay? About every single thing I did to you. All of it.” She plays with the hem of her uniform’s skirt for a moment, ashamed. “I could say it was temporary insanity or that I was coming to terms with my bisexuality. I could even try to blame it on you because everything about you is just… so overwhelming to me that I’ve been nothing but terrified and angry since school started.”

Lauren tilts her head, a curious look on her face, and Camila brings her knees to her chest to form a sort of barrier between them.

“But what matters is that regardless of what I was going through, I still _chose_ to do those things to you. Something in me heard about cupcakes and somehow thought it was reasonable to have that Sartorius kid add laxatives to them? And something in me thought it was a good idea to track down Luis and get him to tell me your past.” Camila shakes her head in disbelief as Lauren curls her lip in disgust. “Like, what is this? How am I this person? And slut-shaming, seriously? Every time I think about those tweets, I want to scream. And all of that is real, and all of that was _me_.”

Camila pauses and looks up at the ceiling for a moment that stretches until she hears Lauren whisper, “I didn’t go easy on you either.”

“You never go easy on me,” Camila quips, with a small smile. “It still doesn’t excuse what I did. Just like I shouldn’t have slapped you in the club — I cringe a lot about that. And it’s not— I know you’re not an innocent bystander, and there was a lot of provocation on your end, but in hindsight it’s just so… unbalanced. There you were, trying to run your campaign and putting me in my place meanwhile I acted like a cartoon villain.” She rolls her eyes at herself. “A+ job, Camila, not excessive at all.”

“Yeah, you’re a little extra,” Lauren teases, leaning forward. “I’m sorry about the audio, by the way.”

“I probably deserved it. It’s the one morally questionable thing you did, I think, and after I pushed you over the edge.” Camila shrugs and rests her chin on her knee. “It’s been hard, you know? To accept that I’m so far from being perfect that I’m an embarrassment to the mere notion.” She harrumphs and bites her lip to stop it from trembling over the emotions swallowing her. “I don’t expect your forgiveness. I mean, I _hope_ you’ll forgive me, but I don’t expect you to. I kind of messed up a whole lot, so yeah.”

“Camila,” Lauren starts, in such an assertive tone that Camila essentially feels compelled to face her straight ahead, “I can’t promise you that I _will_ forgive you. Everything that happened in the week of the debate was fucked up and I’m not gonna lie, it destroyed me. And it destroyed my faith and my trust in you, too.” Camila tries to look down but Lauren forces her to meet her eyes again. “But I can promise you that I will try. Is that okay?”

Camila gulps, her eyes brimming with tears that she refuses to let fall. “Yes,” she croaks. “Yes, that’s more than okay.”

“Is there anything else you wanted to tell me?”

Camila nods, and a soft blush colors her cheeks. “Thank you.”

Lauren furrows her brows. “For what?”

“For making me want to be a better person.” She smiles and then blushes harder. “And for, uh, the good times we _did_ have together. I don’t regret that.”

Lauren looks confused for a couple of seconds and Camila almost wants to laugh when the realization of what Camila had meant dawns on her.

“Yeah, I, uh—” She clears her throat. “I don’t either.”

A silence descends upon them, not necessarily uncomfortable, but a bit tentative. Camila studies every inch of Lauren’s face — she doesn’t know if they’ll ever be this close again. When Lauren catches her staring, she lowers her gaze and bites her bottom lip, feeling her face too warm.

Lauren sighs, and Camila thinks she hears, “Don’t do that,” but it’s followed by “I should go,” so quickly that she convinces herself it was just her imagination.

“Yeah,” Camila agrees awkwardly. “Bye.”

Lauren does a little wave and then scrunches up her nose adorably like she can’t fathom she’s just done that.

Camila watches her go and she wishes her belly hadn’t become a flutter of butterflies when Lauren turns once to look back, flushing when she notices Camila is watching, but it’s impossible to do that when that one moment makes her feel like she’s flying.

And when Lauren starts walking back towards her instead of leaving, Camila’s heart stops in her chest and then it explodes, thumping and slamming against her ribcage.

She stands in front of Camila, looking down at her as Camila sits straight and gazes up, and Camila craves her, Camila _needs_ to bury her face in Lauren’s soft tummy, breathe her in, and stay there forever.

“Why did you give up the presidency?”

Camila thinks of a thousand possible answers to give, goes through all the excuses and rationalizations she’d told herself, but settles for the closest she’s come to the truth.

Like Lauren said, she’s got nothing left to lose.

“The idea that your opinion of me is _that_ ,” Camila explains, gentle and shy, “is very… painful to me.” It’s not a nice thing to admit, she doesn’t think. It’s not pretty or smart or selfless. More like vulnerable and pathetic. “It was the only thing I could think of doing that could make me feel better about myself. That could help me cope with how maybe I’m not… that good of a person.” Lauren’s eyes studying her become too much for Camila, and she focuses on the ground, tapping her toes together. “The only thing that would give me the chance of you not hating me.”

This time, when the silence comes, Camila feels it in every inch of her skin and in every breath that burns through her lungs, and she closes her eyes, overwhelmed by the presence of Lauren and by the burden of her mistakes.

She hears Lauren move and, when she opens her eyes again, Lauren is crouched before her and their faces are at the same level. Camila’s knee tingles, where Lauren places her hand to keep her balance.

“I don’t hate you,” Lauren says, eyebrows furrowed as if the affirmation is new even to her. A bit confusing too. “Thank you, for being honest with me.”

Camila nods with a teary smile and, as Lauren gets up to leave, she welcomes the relief flooding her veins and lifting the weight on her chest.

She’s never felt so light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone who's been leaving kudos and kind comments (we don't need the comments demanding chapters or insulting us as if we're being paid for this though)!
> 
> we ran out of pre-written chapters so the updates will take longer, but we're working on it and we will finish this fic! <3


	19. the healing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's literally been over a month since the last update but now it's finally here! Thanks to everyone who has been understanding and patient--this one is for you guys!! I hope it's worth the long wait

The thing is, being the school body president is a whole lot more responsibility than Lauren thought it would be. She has become the link between the faculty and the student body and if it’s anything, it’s stressful. She might’ve been better at handling it if she hadn’t so much else going on and as it is, she feels like she’s burning the candles at both ends.

After a long but frustratingly unproductive meeting, she crumbles against the lockers in the empty hallways, repeatedly knocking her head against the metal.

“Are you trying to kill a few brain cells?”

She lifts her head and is surprised to see none other than Camila standing a few feet away, watching her curiously. She’s carrying a guitar case that appears to be twice the size of her small frame.

Lauren smiles wryly. “Perhaps.”

It’s been a couple of weeks since Camila’s apology in the library and they haven’t spoken since. It hasn’t been intentional — at least not on Lauren’s part —, she has simply been drowning in student body president duties on top of her other extracurriculars. She hasn’t had the space of mind for much else.

(That’s a lie. Camila has taken residence in the back of her mind for some time now.)

She gestures at the guitar case. “Since when do you play guitar?”

Camila shrugs a bit. “I’ve always played, I’ve just never had much time to do so. I’ve got a lot more free time on my hands lately.”

Lauren studies her. She actually looks healthier; her skin is glowing, her eyes are bright, well-rested. Lauren knows she looks like a fucking  _ trainwreck _ next to her.

(In the back of her mind, she also thinks she wouldn’t mind listening to Camila play guitar).

“You only passed the presidency over to punish me, didn’t you?” she says with a dry laugh.

Camila smirks. “That tough, huh?”

Lauren sighs so heavily her whole body shakes. She throws her arms to the side in defeat.

“I haven’t been able to do  _ anything  _ and it’s been nearly, what, a month? The school board just fucking overrules every initiative that I come up with and it’s not because they’re bad, they just don’t want to pay for them.”

“What initiatives are those?”

“I want to start a tutoring program for the kids that don’t have the resources to get the extra help that they need and the board told me that I’d have to find the money elsewhere. So I just had a meeting with my team and the class presidents, proposing that we cut into the budget for upcoming Winter Ball. They reacted as if I’d told them to sell their souls or something.”

Camila’s eyes go a bit wide. “Big mistake. You don’t want to touch their parties, that’s literally the only thing they care about.”

“I like a party as much as anyone else, but there’s no need to splurge that much money on it. I hate them all, they’re so superficial and have the attention span of five year olds.”

Camila looks amused. “They aren’t all like you.”

Lauren blinks at her, unsure how to take that.

“I know it isn’t what you want to hear, but maybe you should be less ambitious.”

“What?” Lauren frowns. “What’s the point of being president if I can’t change a goddamn thing?”

“You can change plenty,” Camila says, “you just have to take smaller steps and win them over first.”

Lauren stares at her. She honestly doesn’t know how to take smaller steps and she’s certain that they already despise her.

“Listen. I’ve been dealing with these idiots for three years. If you want some tips and tricks, then I’m happy to help.”

Lauren smiles at the offer. “I’ll remember that. Thank you.”

Camila smiles back and Lauren can’t help but watch her walk away, feeling the distinct feeling of something in her chest that she resolutely ignores.

She doesn’t have time for that.

* * *

It takes two weeks for Lauren to ask Camila for help.

It’s mostly because Lauren is too proud to admit that she’s struggling and needs assistance from her former nemesis. But there’s also a big part of her that doesn’t trust Camila yet since the big betrayal at the debate.

However, she’s forced to seek Camila after troubles with the Winter Ball preparations. The other class presidents weren’t much help other than telling her that Camila always knew what to do.

“Just go ask her, Lauren. She’s right there.” Ally points her out across the cafeteria as if Camila isn’t sitting where she’s always been, in the center table with her friends.

Lauren glances at her. She’s laughing at something Dinah has said, throwing her braided hair over her shoulder and Lauren quickly removes her gaze with a sigh.

“What’s wrong?” Shaun asks. “Didn’t you tell us she offered her help?”

Lauren purses her lips and nods.

“She obviously still cares about you.” Ally shoots her a suggestive look that Lauren resolutely ignores.

“Just as you still care about her.” Shaun grins into his lunch when Lauren fixes him with a glare.

“Shut up.” She sighs and drags a hand down her face, forcing herself to rise. “Alright. I’m going to ask her.”

“Yay!” Ally lifts her hand for a high-five but Lauren shoots her down with an exasperated look.

Dinah is the first one to see her approaching and she whistles, making Lauren feel embarrassed and awkward.

“Oh, if it isn’t Lauren Jauregui herself! Our new Queen! What may I help you with, your highness?” She gives a dramatic bow, causing her friends to erupt in laughter.

Lauren rolls her eyes hard. “Knock it off, Dinah.”

Dinah grins and grabs her arm, pulling her close. “What’s up, Lauser?”

Lauren glances around the table and they all look back at her curiously. She meets Camila’s gaze.

“Hey,” she greets. “I need your help with something. Can we talk?”

Camila appears genuinely surprised and she looks at Normani who offers a secretive smile.

“Ohhh!” Dinah exclaims, waggling her brows at Lauren. “Something you can’t talk about in front of us?”

“Dinah.” Camila sighs and rises to her feet. “Stop being so childish.”

In retaliation, Dinah starts singing, “ _ Camila and Lauren sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G _ — auw!” Dinah rubs her arm and pouts at Normani who scoldingly shakes her head at her.

“Thank you, Mani,” Camila mutters, pink-cheeked, and follows Lauren to a more private nook. Lauren feels like an idiot since what she wants to talk about isn’t that secretive and now people are going to jump to conclusions, as they love to do, when all Lauren wants is to ask for help with the Winter Ball preparations.

When Lauren explains the problems they’ve run into, Camila looks like she had been expecting something else but quickly shakes it.

“We have a meeting later today. If you have time, maybe you could stop by? Apparently they put a lot of trust in you.” It has become clear to Lauren that the student council, for some reason, favors Camila over her and resents the team she’s brought with her. She isn’t exactly bitter, but she isn’t happy about it either.

“Oh. Yeah. Sure.” Camila nods and then stands there and stares at Lauren as if she’s waiting for something. Lauren stares back until it gets awkward and she clears her throat.

“Thank you, Camila.” She smiles and returns to her table, feeling Camila’s eyes on her the whole way.

* * *

Lauren discovers that Camila has a way with the student council that Lauren has yet to learn. She knows just what to say and how to say it to make them agree with her. Lauren almost pulls out a piece of paper and pen to take notes. Needless to say, it’s one of the first productive meetings they have and it reminds Lauren that she’s a newbie, not only with the job, but with these people whereas Camila has years of experience under her belt.

“That was amazing,” Lauren admits when the meeting is over and people start to leave.

Camila shrugs it off. “I’ve just been doing it for a while. You’ll get the hang of it. Maybe.” The last bit is said with a teasing smile and Lauren scoffs softly.

“At this rate, I doubt it. It’s my senior year. I have so much other shit to think about than this.”

“Careful, Jauregui, don’t forget that this is what you wanted.”

Lauren sighs hard. “I know. I know.” She takes a deep breath and swallows her pride. “If you miss it, you’re welcome to join our meetings.”

Camila glances at her. “I wouldn’t want to overstep.”

Lauren waves dismissively. “You wouldn’t. We obviously need your help.”

Camila nods slowly, studying Lauren out of the corner of her eyes. “Okay.”

It sounds like a good idea to Lauren. She knows she has a lot to learn and she accepts the fact the one she can learn the most from is Camila. Even if she can’t trust Camila intimately, she knows she can trust her with this.

It takes less than two meetings before it goes wrong. Camila grows increasingly impatient and rude to Lauren’s crew. At first, Lauren tries to resolve things but then Camila snaps at Keana.

“Do you even have an opinion that is yours? Or do you just agree with everything Lauren says? What are you, her ‘Yes-Man’?”

Keana gasps in offense and Lauren noisily jumps out of her chair, everyone startling as it scrapes along the floor.

“Camila. Can I speak to you outside?” she asks through clenched teeth and, without waiting, she storms out.

She waits outside with crossed arms and as soon as Camila steps out, she turns on her. “Alright, Cabello. What the actual fuck is your problem? I brought you in to help us, not to undermine my team!”

Camila rolls her eyes. “I can’t help that you’ve somehow managed to create the most incompetent team in the whole school.”

“They’re not incompetent!” Lauren snaps. “If you’d only listen to what they have to say instead of thinking that the only right opinion is yours then maybe—”

“Their opinion is literally  _ useless _ ,” Camila interrupts. “They don’t even care. They’re probably just here because they think it’s easy credit. That makes me so annoyed.”

“Oh my  _ God _ ,” Lauren groans, fingers in her hair. There’s no one in this entire world that can infuriate her as much as Camila can and she can’t believe that she had forgotten. “You’re unbelievable. You think you’re so clever.”

Camila eyes flashes angrily at her. “You’re the one who brought me in, Jauregui. If you want my help, then take it. Don’t waste my time.”

Lauren swallows down a snarky response and closes her eyes, taking several deep breaths. Once she opens them, Camila is staring expectantly at her.

“Camila,” Lauren says, the anger evaporating from her voice, “I don’t want to fight with you. I don’t want us to go back to how we used to be. We  _ can’t _ go back to square one with each other.”

Camila’s gaze softens. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m just… I’m used to doing things my way from when I was president and I know I should learn to compromise.” She takes a shaky breath. “I don’t want to fight with you either.”

Lauren heaves a sigh of relief. “Good. If we work together, we could accomplish so much.” She offers her hand and smiles. “Seriously, let’s be friends.”

Camila looks surprised at the offer and for a mortifying moment, Lauren fears she’s going to leave her hanging. Then she lifts her hand and slips it into Lauren’s.

“That’s a good start.”

Lauren doesn’t know what that means. A good start to something more perhaps? Or maybe Lauren is just reading into it far more than she should. She might not know what Camila means, but she knows that hand feels impossibly warm in Lauren’s and her face looks beautiful when she smiles.

* * *

 

 

They’re rapidly approaching the end of the semester and things are running smoothly in all accounts. Ever since Camila joined the student council, they have been able to make some changes —  perhaps small changes, but it’s only the beginning.

They both make an effort at being friends and rebuilding trust, hanging out at school and walking down the halls together, uncaring about the whispers and eyes that follow them everywhere they go. Their two groups of friends consequently start to fuse together until it’s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins. Normani and Ally make their relationship official with everyone’s support, and Lauren starts regretting it when they won’t stop exchanging saliva 24/7.

“Ugh! Enough with the PDA already! I’m trying to  _ eat _ here,” Camila complains one day at lunch.

Lauren scowls at Normani and Ally as they giggle together and exchange sugary sweet words. At this rate, she’ll get diabetes. “We should make PDA forbidden on school grounds,” she suggests.

“That’s a brilliant idea!” Camila praises and Lauren laughs.

“Y’all are just jealous hoes.” Dinah snorts. “If you two weren’t playing around, it could be the two of you taking turns at tonguing each other’s throats and you  _ know _ it.”

Lauren and Camila blush, chorusing. “Shut up, Dinah!”

“She’s telling the truth, though, isn’t she?” Shaun butts in and ducks, laughing when Lauren throws a half-eaten apple at him.

“I knew I liked you.” Dinah grins and catches Shaun under her arm, ruffling his hair.

Lauren is close to regretting their friends hanging out together. She looks at Camila who’s glaring at Dinah and she wonders what she really thinks about Dinah’s words. She has caught herself watching Camila countless times, her smile, her laugh, her  _ mouth _ . She wonders if Camila watches her as well.

Camila catches her looking and they stare at each other for a moment before they simultaneously look away.

They’re only friends now.

 

And friends don’t get jealous.

Except Lauren totally is.

They’re at a house party at some jock’s house and Lauren is staring at Camila and some tall, lanky boy flirting up a storm. Camila can flirt. She’s single and beautiful and half the school wants to be with her. It’s only natural that she doesn’t stay single for long.

Lauren takes a long swig from her red cup and grimaces at the foul taste. She looks back at Camila and watches as she strokes down the boy’s toned arm, giggling at something he said.

“Are you trying to kill that guy with your eyes alone?”

She startles and spills the beer on her shoes. She groans and spins around, coming face to face with Ally. “Don’t do that. You scared me half to death.”

Ally laugh. “Sorry.” She glances at Camila and the boy. “Are you jealous?”

“No,” Lauren says quickly. “We’re just friends.”

“Or so you keep insisting.” Ally studies Lauren intently. “This is stupid. Why don’t you just admit that you have feelings for each other and put us out of our misery?”

Lauren raises a brow. “ _ Your _ misery?”

“It’s torture watching Camila and you dancing around each other, waiting for the other to make a move.” Lauren flushes, embarrassed at how obvious she has been. “Mani told me that Dinah has some elaborate plan to force the two of you together, so you better do something before she makes thing worse.”

Lauren’s eyes widen in horror. Anything that Dinah plans can only end in Lauren’s complete humiliation.

“How do you even know that she wants to be more than friends?”

“Because she’s watching you right now.”

Lauren’s gaze snaps up and she catches Camila staring at her, though she quickly looks away. Lauren swallows thickly, unsure what to feel, but then the guy loops an arm around Camila’s neck and brings her closer. Lauren turns away.

“I’m going to step outside for some air.”

There’s a porch swing in the backyard and Lauren settles into it. She fishes out a blunt from her jeans and lights it, taking a deep drag. She blows the smoke out and watches it dance in the air for a second before disappearing.

Since Camila had betrayed her by spilling her innermost secrets to the whole school, Lauren has been guarded with her feelings towards her. She thought they would burn to ashes and never return, but they did the opposite — they never left. However, they are curled somewhere deep inside of her, hiding away in the darkest corner, afraid to be burned again. Lately, they tend to make an appearance whenever Camila does something endearing or cute or hot that has Lauren’s heart involuntarily speeding up.

The problem is that Camila and her make  _ great  _ friends, and she worries that perhaps they make better friends than they would anything else. She doesn’t want to ruin what they have now by being greedy.

She startles out of her thoughts when someone steps outside. She looks up and is surprised to see Camila.

“Hey,” she says softly.

Lauren blinks. “Hey.”

Camila glances at the thin blunt between her fingers and Lauren is sure she’s going to give her a disapproving look and leave. However, to her surprise, she sinks down next to her.

“What are you doing?”

“Smoking. Obviously. Where’s your boy toy?”

Camila rises a brow. “He’s not my boy toy. I got bored of him.”

Lauren snorts. “You didn’t look bored,” she mutters, a hint of bitterness seeping into her voice.

Camila eyes her, but says nothing to that. They sit there in complete silence for a few minutes.

“Do you want some?” Lauren offers, holding out the joint.

Camila frowns and stares at it as if it’s an alien. “I’ve never tried it before.”

“Come on,” Lauren insists. “It’s pretty good.”

Camila hesitates but then reaches for it, their fingers brushing, and Lauren ignores the jolt of electricity. She slides closer to Camila.

“No. You’re holding it all wrong.” She guides her helpfully. “Okay. Take a small drag but pull it all the way down to your lungs.”

Camila looks almost nervous but does as she’s told. A second later, she’s coughing half her lungs out and Lauren can’t help but laugh.

“This is awful,” Camila complains with tears in her eyes.

“At first, yeah,” Lauren agrees. “It grows on you.”

Camila watches her as she takes a drag without flinching. “Have you been doing it for long?”

“A couple of years.”

They fall silent again, the only sounds from the party in the house. Lauren speaks first.

“So… have you found a date to the Winter Ball?”

Camila glances at her and shakes her head. “I’m going with Dinah. She’s on this  _ ‘’I’m an independent woman and need no man’’  _ phase.”

Lauren is surprised. “What, isn’t half the school lined up to be your date?”

Camila rolls her eyes. “What about yourself?”

“I hate dances. I’m only going because I have to.”

“Is it because you can’t dance?” Camila teases.

“Hey! I can dance!” Lauren protests. “Mostly I just hate the whole ‘date’ thing. The idea is patriarchal and outdated. There are a bunch of girls who are going to feel worthless because there are no boys asking them out. It’s  _ stupid _ .”

Camila watches her for a second, then jokes, “Are you bitter because no boys will ask you out?”

“I don’t  _ want _ any boy to ask me out. I’m over boys to be honest.”

“Oh, so you’re waiting for a girl to ask you out?” Camila asks so nonchalantly that it takes a second for Lauren to register what she said and for a moment, she thinks Camila is offering.

“I would prefer it,” Lauren admits.

Camila looks down and licks her lips, and Lauren follows the motion.

“Have you always known?” Lauren frowns, confused, and Camila elaborates, “That you like girls.”

Lauren’s eyes widen a bit, taken aback by the question. “Oh… um… I’ve known for a while, I guess.” She shrugs a bit. “Ever since I was like, twelve, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how pretty the girl next door was.”

Camila smiles a bit and Lauren has to ask, “What about you?”

Camila looks startled by the question and she fishmouths for a moment, before taking a deep breath, a soft blush making her even more endearing to Lauren’s already half-lidded eyes. “I have always found girls attractive, but I never…” she trails off, words evading her and Lauren stares skeptically at her.

“Are you having a gay crisis?”

Camila’s eyes snap to her. “A  _ what _ now?”

Lauren smirks. “A gay crisis. We all go through them. It’s okay. You can accept who you are.”

Camila blushes. “I’m not having a gay crisis, Jauregui.” She huffs. “Bisexuality is a thing as I’m sure you know. I’ve just… I’ve never really thought about  _ actually _ liking girls before, not like, you know, like  _ like _ girls.”

Lauren swallows thickly, heart jumping. “Before me?”

Lauren watches the way Camila’s breath hitches and she lifts her gaze to stare at Lauren, looking the most vulnerable she has seen her in a while and it’s breathtaking.

“Yes.”

Lauren is overcome with the urge to press their lips together and feel her soft mouth against her but she fights it off. If they’re ever going to have a shot at this, they have to do it right this time around.

Lauren wets her dry lips and inhales deeply. “Camila… do you think…” She gathers every amount of courage that she has. “Do you want to… try?”

Lauren knows that Camila understands her question, yet she still asks quietly, “Try what?”

“Us,” Lauren responds, and the words hang in the air, heavy and dangerous. “Do you want to give  _ us _ a shot? For real, this time.”

Immediately, Lauren wishes she could grab the words and shove them down her throat, but they’re out in the open, leaving her feeling naked and vulnerable.

Camila stares at her. “Jauregui…” Her lips curve up in a smirk. “Are you asking me out?”

Lauren’s cheeks pink and she groans, hiding her face in her hands. “Don’t tease me right now.”

Camila reaches out and removes her hands from her face, peering frankly into her eyes. “I never thought you’d ever want to be with me in any way again… I honestly never expected this.” She strokes the back of Lauren’s hand in the gentlest of ways, smiling, and then she nods. “I think we deserve another shot.”

Lauren is swept away by a warm feeling and a grin breaks out on her face. It’s only then that she allows herself to cup Camila’s cheek and take her lips in her own.

And she realizes that her feelings indeed never went away.

 

If anything, they feel amplified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guysssssssss this is second to last chapter!!! there's only a chapter left! can y'all believe that? this story idea was born back in december and we're now in the middle of summer! time flies and i'm so proud of mjfeelz and i for seeing it through the end. also huge shout out to the readers who have supported us, it would've been nothing without all of you! 
> 
> Does anyone have any theories as to who runs the gossip twitter?


	20. love is patient

“What do you mean ‘another shot’?!” Dinah practically shouts right into her ear.

Camila grimaces and moves a few inches away from her in the king-size bed. She’s been sleeping over since the party on Friday and it’s now Sunday morning.

Well, Sunday lunch time because Dinah’s little siblings know not to interrupt her beauty rest.

“And all this happened at the party and you’re only telling me now?!” Dinah adds, volume still in way too good health.

“I’m sorry!” Camila says, turning Dinah’s face away from hers to redirect the screams somewhere else. “I just didn’t know what to think of it so I didn’t want to say anything.”

“Stop pushing me, hoe, let me talk!” Camila laughs at that and arches a brow, doubtful Dinah will stick to just talking. “So are you guys dating now? What is this ‘shot’ supposed to be?”

“I don’t know, Dinah.” Camila sighs. “We like, made out for a bit after that conversation, and it was good, you know? But then she got up to go to the bathroom and while she was gone we had to leave so I just sent her a text to say bye and she didn’t reply.” She looks at the ceiling, trying to find strength within her not to feel sad. “And she hasn’t texted or called or done anything at all since that night. I have no idea what she’s thinking.”

“Is it possible she didn’t get the text?”

Camila grabs her phone from the bedside table and shows Dinah the ‘read’ sign on her last text to Lauren.

“Damn, and it was a cute text too!” Dinah scoffs, offended as if it had happened to her personally. “I’m gonna kill Lauser in practice tomorrow.”

“No, China, enough of that.” Dinah glares at her, but Camila ignores it. “Maybe she was high when she saw the text and doesn’t remember seeing it, so she thinks I’m the one who’s at fault,” she offers, half-heartedly. “Or maybe she regrets that conversation. I really don’t know.”

“I mean, no offense, but going from mortal enemies, to mortal enemies who have sex, to mortal enemies who don’t talk to each other, to friends on very shaky ground to girlfriends is kind of a big jump of faith,” Dinah says, stroking Camila’s shoulder in a comforting gesture. “Maybe you just need tomorrow at school to clarify the pace and you guys will be okay again.”

“I’m not even sure she meant dating?” Camila twists around to hide her face in the pillow. “It’s all so unclear and now she’s not even talking to me so remind me not to take not-sober people at face value.”

“You said she mentioned the Winter Ball?”

“Yes, but not in a ‘let’s go together’ way. We just talked about it as… a topic, I guess.”

“You could ask her to the ball, no?”

“I don’t want to. The time isn’t right.” Camila sits up in the bed, moving so her feet hit the floor and her back is to Dinah. “We’ll see how it goes tomorrow. Now call Mani and tell her we’ll be late for the study group session at her house.”

“I don’t get why there’s a week left ‘til Xmas break and you wanna be having study group sessions, but sure, Ms. Overachiever.”

Camila just shows her the middle finger before she disappears into the bathroom.

  

 

“Camila?”

She turns to see Lauren walking towards her, freshly showered after soccer practice. “Hey.” She feels herself blushing, and fixes her hair behind her ears to disguise it somehow.

“Can we talk?” Lauren shifts her weight from one foot to another and Camila realizes she’s nervous too. “About the party.”

“You mean how you were super sweet to me and talked about us deserving a shot and then ignored me all weekend?” Camila snarks, unable to help herself. “Yes, sure.”

Lauren winces. “I guess I deserve that.”

“You do,” Camila says, with a sigh. “What do you want, Lauren? It’s fine if you weren’t thinking straight at the party or whatever, just… be honest with me. Please.” She shakes her head, gaze never leaving Lauren’s. “We’ve screwed each other over more than enough times to last for a lifetime.”

“I do have, er, feelings for you,” Lauren stutters, embarrassed. “But you left the party without saying goodbye and I was… God, I was devastated.” She lifts her hand up to stop Camila from interrupting. “I know! I know you tried to find me, I know why you left, I know you texted me and I was a jerk for not saying anything, but the way I reacted… I can’t start anything with you if I don’t trust you, Camila.” Her voice wavers at the end, and Camila’s heart constricts in her chest. “It’s not fair to you or to me to be going into something when at the slightest less than perfect thing you do, I’ll be panicking and wondering when you’ll turn on me.”

"I get that.” Camila crosses her arms, casting her eyes downwards. “Do you want me to stay away from you?”

“No, not at all!” Lauren hurries out, taking a step closer and holding Camila’s wrist. “I just mean that maybe I — no, I definitely jumped several steps ahead at the party. Being high and drunk is no excuse, but wow, you are really pretty and sometimes being around you is… difficult, but in all the best ways.”

“Lauren, I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.” Camila huffs, frustrated and sad. “So you like me but you hate that you like me, is that it?”

“What?” Lauren furrows her brows. “Where did you get that from? No, of course not! I like you, yes, and I’m okay with that, I just need time.”

“You can have all the time you need, Jauregui,” she replies, something of a bite in her tone. “I learned my lesson about forcing you into and out of things during the electoral season.”

“Why are you being so mean?” Lauren seems genuinely confused and, in any other circumstance, Camila would find it endearing but now she’s just angry.

“Because you left me on read the entire weekend after you kissed me and asked me for a chance, and now you’re being vague about what the fuck you expect from me, Lauren!” she finally snaps, pulling her arm away from Lauren’s grip. “I’ll do whatever you want, just _tell_ me!”

“Oh.” Lauren opens and closes her mouth, fingers fiddling with her uniform.

“Yeah, Lauren,” Camila mock-repeats. “Oh.”

“Would it be okay if we stayed friends and took it slowly?” she asks, after a few moments of tense silence. “I love spending time with you and talking to you and you make me so happy, it’s just—”

“You can’t trust me yet.” Camila’s shoulders slump.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too. I brought this on myself.” She tongues her lips, mouth suddenly too dry, and the smile she forces is pained around the edges.

“Is it alright with you though? If we stay friends and take it slowly? See what happens?”

“I can do that,” Camila allows, eyes widening when Lauren moves to wrap her in a tight hug. She dissolves into it and doesn’t say anything else. Doesn’t say how she’s so into Lauren she feels like she could wait her whole life for her to be ready.

She doesn’t say how, as of right now, her new senior year project is to make Lauren Jauregui trust her again.

  

 

Camila smiles as she stands in line to enter the gym for Winter Ball, Dinah huffing impatiently by her side. She’d left early the night before, per Lauren’s request, when the decoration hadn’t even been halfway done. There are some perks to not being student body president and to having chosen not to belong to the Dance Committee for once and, as much as she had wanted to participate, she also had no desire to undermine Lauren’s authority.

Of course, she’d told Lauren to call if she needed anything — and even promised to return if her help was necessary — which had ended with Lauren keeping her company on the other side of her phone as she finished her last college application essay, via exchanging texts and calls until 2 AM. It was cute.

It was something.

It filled Camila’s chest with warmth and hope, something she’s been lacking when it comes to her overpowering feelings for Lauren.

Walking inside, she can admit everything looks beautiful and soft, shades of dark blue and white on the walls, sprinkling stars painted on the ceiling and shooting stars hanging from it, the disco ball disguising as the moon. It’s as if a dreamy winter night has actually somehow found its way to Miami despite the warm temperature outside.

“Oh wow,” Dinah breathes out, coming to a halt next to her. “Lauser didn’t play around with the Ball, eh?”

“You sound like you doubted she’d do a good job,” Camila teases, elbowing her on the ribs. “I didn’t.” She can’t help how smug she sounds either.

“Stop it, Chancho,” she snaps, fixing her long cream-colored dress for the umpteenth time. “I’m just used to your perfectionist style and didn’t expect her to do as good, is all. Glad to be proven wrong.”

Camila snickers and pulls her further inside. “Come on, let’s go find Mani and Hernandez.”

“You ever gonna drop that anti-Ally act?”

“She’s annoying,” Camila says with an indifferent shrug. “I don’t have to like her to be civil and be happy for Mani.”

To prove her point, she hugs Normani tight when they finally reach them, and goes on a tangent about Hernandez’s white dress, which is form-fitting and leaves two-thirds of her lean legs on display. They’re genuine compliments for the most part, though she’s only giving them for the sake of her best friend. She can _feel_ Dinah rolling her eyes behind her, so hard Camila’s surprised she hasn’t pulled a nerve.

It doesn’t matter. She’s trying, she’s making an effort for her friends and for the girl she’d gone quite literally crazy for. She thinks it’s good enough for now.

The night goes on without any scandals or mishaps. Camila dances with Dinah a lot, with Normani a couple of other times, lets herself be dragged to the dancefloor by one boy or another. The entire time her gaze shifts away to explore the room, a pang burning her heart whenever she can’t find who she’s seeking.

(it’s impossible she hasn’t spotted Lauren yet, right? it’s been two hours.)

With a sigh, she rejects an invitation to dance from a senior she shares a class with as a slow dance song starts, and approaches the table where Normani is sitting with a couple of Lauren’s friends. She wants to ask about her, wants to see with her own eyes how beautiful Lauren must look, but she’s too proud to reveal how she’s spent so much of tonight just _longing_. Thus she supports her weight on the edge of the table, crossing her arms, and turns her attention back to the students dancing, not willing to give up her search until it’s time to go back home.

When she focuses on the side of the empty stage, her breath catches in her throat and her heart starts drumming inside its cage.

Lauren is already looking at her, in a long black dress with straps crossing in the middle that leave enticing parts of her stomach showing, hair up in a ponytail. She’s walking in her direction too and Camila gasps, arms dropping to her sides.

Everything disappears except Lauren moving towards her under the winter lights. Camila swears there’s nothing else, no one else, just Lauren and the mighty thunder roaring between her lungs.

“You look stunning, Bows,” Lauren says softly once she reaches her. “Like a real life princess.”

Camila gapes at her, unable to find words, and Lauren smiles a smile Camila had never seen directed at her — one that makes her eyes smaller because her lips are stretched as far as they go, allowing Camila a glimpse of her adorable teeth. She blushes a deep red, properly feeling like the schoolgirl with a crush that she is, and Lauren chuckles, shifting so she’s standing beside Camila to observe the resounding success that is the first event she’d organized as student body present.

Camila can’t stop staring at her though. She is mesmerized, entranced by the vision of Lauren, the smell of Lauren, the presence of Lauren. It takes her a full minute to gather herself and it’s only then that she manages to pay attention to the song.

It’s oddly suitable, as if the Universe had conspired to give Camila this one moment, and so she finds what’s left of her shattered courage and leans into Lauren’s personal space.

“ _Whenever you’re ready / Whenever you’re ready / Can we, can we surrender?_ ” she sings tenderly into her ear.

Lauren takes her time turning, eyes glinting as they fixate on Camila’s, and for a long moment they’re just standing there, lost in each other.

Camila sees a collection of emotions flit through Lauren’s eyes. There’s fear, so so much fear, and Camila swallows, ashamed. There’s curiosity too and a sort of reluctant acceptance, like Lauren knows it’s only a matter of time until she relents. And above all else, there’s so much unrestrained fondness that Camila _melts_.

No, really, she does. Her knees falter and she stumbles forward into Lauren’s arms.

Lauren smiles, a tiny, close-lipped one this time, and steadies Camila until she’s standing straight again.

“Yes,” she whispers, brushing a strand of hair that had escaped Camila’s braid behind her ear. “When I’m ready.”

Camila nods, unshed tears brightening her eyes, and bites her lip. “Whenever you’re ready.”

 

* * *

 

The inside of her car is starting to feel claustrophobic with how long Camila’s sat there, revolving pros and cons in her head. She’s parked outside Lauren’s house, holding a chessboard tightly in her hands. There are scissors and tape and a roll of cheesy Christmas wrapping paper on the passenger seat, but she still hasn’t decided if she wants to go through with this or not. Her gaze is set on the card precariously balanced on the steering wheel, a card with the Grinch making a grumpy joke on the cover — yes, _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_ is her favorite holiday movie, and what about it? —, where she talks about how Lauren’s dad would probably like it if she kept playing chess.

With a long-suffering sigh, she grabs the card, places it on top of the chessboard’s box and does a lousy job of using the wrapping paper. She’s never been good at arts and crafts and she doesn’t think Lauren will care much either. Plus, Sofi had made a cute bow from the red ribbon they have at home and Camila had been quick to snatch it for a more appropriate time.

Like now.

Taking a deep breath, she presses the gift against her chest and leaves the car, locking it behind her with a click on her keys. She’s giving herself a pep-talk pretty much the whole way to Lauren’s front door and almost has a heart attack when she rings the bell and a tall teenage boy opens the door.

“Oh hey,” he greets, wriggling his brows after he looks her up and down. “I hope you’re here for me.”

Camila scowls. This _child_ looks about 14 and should have better manners.

“Hi,” she says, through gritted teeth. “Is Lauren home?”

He takes another good look at her before turning his face to the side, yelling, “Lo! Someone’s at the door for ya!”

Camila shifts on her feet, amused despite herself when Lauren running down the stairs doesn’t sound far from a stampede.

“Camila?” Lauren asks, clearly shocked as she appears next to who Camila supposes is her brother, in sweats and an oversized Lana Del Rey sweater.

“Camila?!” the boy repeats, staring from one girl to the other. “Camila, the bitch Camila?!” He punches Lauren on the arm. “You never told me she was this hot, what the hell, Lauren!”

She punches him on the side, flushing a deep red. “Go away, Chris,” she mumbles, pushing him inside and closing the door. “Sorry about that.”

“No, that’s fine, don’t worry. My sister embarrasses me all the time.”

“Oh, does she?” Lauren teases, lifting one eyebrow. “Interesting.”

Camila rolls her eyes and stretches her arms out, occupying the space between her and Lauren with the gift.

“What is this?”

“Look, I know we’re not… the kind of friends that exchange presents. And I didn’t have this planned, I promise, I just went to an antique store with my mom yesterday and I saw this and remembered you and so I bought it on impulse and—” She stops herself, shaking her head. “Right, ramble alert, you know how this goes.”

Lauren smiles. “You’re nervous.”

“Yes,” Camila easily concedes. She’s long past the time when she refused to admit any effect Lauren had on her. “So anyway, I bought it on impulse and I’ve been staring at it pretty much since yesterday wondering if it’s too much and I don’t want you to feel like I’m pressuring you or something, you know? It’s just a present, something that reminded me of you, and I don’t need anything in return and it doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“Just a present,” Lauren says, accepting the box with a smirk.

“Just a present.” Camila nods once and offers a smile of her own. “Happy holidays, Lauren.”

“To you too.”

They stare at each other for a moment, until Camila snaps out of it and awkwardly waves goodbye, eager to get out of there so she can inevitably start replaying the moment a thousand times in her head, each one more embarrassing than the last.

“Hey, Camila!” Lauren calls, when Camila is already at the end of the driveway, forcing her to turn. “Nice bow,” she says, shaking the box next to her head.

Camila blinks, not quite believing what she’s seeing, and then laughter bubbles up in her tummy and slips out of her mouth before she can contain it.

Lauren beams, young and lovely, and does a cute little jiggle of her fingers as a wave that has Camila’s heart pitter-pattering inside her ribs.

Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea. Maybe she’ll even get to relive the moment without cringing at herself over and over again.

 

When she checks her phone on Christmas morning, she figures it was all worth it.

**Jauregui [10:17]** _Thank you, Camila. I think I needed that._

 

* * *

 

“So who are you kissing at midnight?” Dinah asks, setting her heavy arm on Camila’s shoulder.

Camila does a quick scan of Normani’s beach house and shrugs. “No one.”

“Aww, is it ‘cause Lauser isn’t here?”

Camila side-eyes her in an obvious ‘duh’ motion. “Well, maybe I can get Mani to give me a peck since Hernandez is spending the entire break away with her family.”

“You do you, Chancho,” Dinah tells her, dropping a wet, clumsy kiss on her cheek. “I got my eyes on a sexy boy already.”

“Go get ‘em, tiger,” she replies, unable to avoid a laugh. “I’ll go check what Mani’s up to. Come find us after your midnight kiss!”

Dinah curtseys sloppily and follows the gesture with an ‘aye, aye, captain’ and an even sloppier salute that has Camila shaking her head in amusement as she moves towards where Normani is seated, chatting with two of her cheerleaders and one of the soccer boys. She sits on her friend’s lap without forewarning and Normani yelps, surprised but quick to wrap her arms around Camila’s waist.

That’s where she stays until it’s midnight, and Normani is her first hug of the year — which she wouldn’t trade for the world. It takes only two minutes for a somehow even drunker than before Dinah to find her way back to them, pulling them from the couch to drag them to the balcony.

“Happy New Year, bitches!” she yells, managing to crush the both of them in just one hug. “You are my favorite people in the world and no boyfriends or girlfriends will ever change that!”

Normani laughs and Camila taps her back awkwardly, waiting for the inevitable speech of “friends forever” Dinah gives every year. They try to pay more attention this time around. Being a senior brings with it a looming sense of the end approaching at every corner and Dinah tearing up isn’t making matters any easier.

“Ok, enough of all this emo mumbo jumbo! I left my midnight boy hanging after the best kiss of his life, so I got places to be.”

Camila snorts, watching Dinah leave like she’s just horny and hadn’t finished pouring her heart out to her best friends merely a minute ago. Normani rests her head on her shoulder, squeezing her hipbone. “I love you, Mila.”

“I love you, Mani.” She’s about to add something but she notices Normani’s phone flashing in her hand. “Go talk to your girl, babe.”

Normani smiles and moves to the opposite side of the ten feet balcony for some illusion of privacy. Camila takes a seat on one of the chairs at her end, pulling out her phone from her pocket. She sets it on her lap and stares at it for an unreasonable amount of time. Eventually she opens Lauren’s chat and types a simple _‘Happy New Year, Lauren. I promise I’ll let it be a smoother ride this time’_ that she obsesses over for long minutes before hitting send.

Lauren replies almost instantly, as if she too had been looking at her phone.

**Jauregui [00:24]** _I make no such promises, Bows ;) you having fun?_

Camila’s heart does a somersault and she sees Lauren’s text for the conversation opening it is, so she takes the opportunity to snap a picture of Normani and send it with a caption joking about her best friend’s mushy ways, which in turn gets them bantering about coupley things they find annoying.

It takes Normani disconnecting her call for them to stop, but Camila, enjoying herself too much, still too afraid of when she will lose Lauren for good, goes on a long-winded explanation about why she won’t be replying anymore.

**Jauregui [01:13]** _No prob,_ _good night! Talk soon?_

Camila really doesn’t think answering with a resounding _‘YES!’_ is all that embarrassing.

(at least not until she’s in bed and she facepalms herself when she remembers it anyway.)

 

* * *

 

There’s a point in life when you start feeling independent, like you can make your own decisions and do your own thing and nothing can stop you. Camila has been at that point for a long time, she’s almost an adult after all. She knows what she wants and she stops at nothing to achieve it.

Adulthood, however, always seems to evade her when her own health and wellbeing are involved. That’s why she finds herself walking inside her parents’ bedroom at three-something in the morning only two weeks after the end of Christmas break, arms crossed under her breasts and palms pressing her stomach.

“Mami,” she whispers into the darkness, hoping her father remains asleep, “no me siento bien.”

“Karla?” her mom asks, sitting on the bed with narrowed eyes. “Qué pasa?”

“I think I’m sick, mami,” Camila whimpers, not moving from her spot by the door. “Can you stay with me?”

Sinuhe gets up right away, pushing her out of the bedroom gently so they don’t disturb the still sleeping man inside. “Of course, honey. What’s hurting?”

“My belly,” Camila whines, hiding her face in her mother’s chest. “I think I need to throw up.”

“Let’s go try.” Sinuhe drapes her arm around her daughter’s waist and leads her to the bathroom. “Then I’ll make you some tea and I’ll sleep with you tonight, okay?”

Camila offers a weak smile. “Gracias, mami.”

She ties her hair up as she kneels in front of the toilet, wincing in pain and disgust.

It’s gonna be a long night.

 

 

Camila is all wrapped up in a blanket, her sister snuggled to her torso and _Tangled_ playing on TV, when the bell rings. Sofi jumps so fast Camila doesn’t have time to grab her, and she definitely doesn’t have the energy to follow her after spending all night and all morning throwing up whatever she tries to eat. She hates when her sister does this since you never know who’s on the other side of the door and Sofi is only six, but at least her mother is back from work already so she won’t have to fulfill her responsible big sister duties.

“Kaki!” she hears Sofi yell. “It’s for you!”

Camila can’t bring herself to scream something back, she just sighs and presses Pause on the movie, waiting for Sofi to drag whoever it is to the living room. Her mom has joined Sofi at the door in the meanwhile; she can hear three voices talking even if she can’t quite distinguish anything they’re saying.

“Kaki,” Sofi says, much closer than Camila expected and causing her to startle before looking back and seeing her sister holding Lauren Jauregui’s hand.

Wait, what?

She shifts on the couch to make sure she isn’t having hallucinations.

She isn’t.

Lauren is standing next to Sofi, wearing ripped jeans and a black V-neck shirt, a backpack on one shoulder and a binder in her free hand, looking the most uncomfortable Camila has ever seen her look.

For a moment, she is too stunned to speak. “What are you doing here?” she blurts out.

“I, uh—“ Lauren clears her throat, hand moving upwards to run through her hair. “You weren’t at school today and we had AP Lit so I thought you’d want the notes from class?”

Camila opens and closes her mouth, words failing her.

Lauren shrugs, and Sofi looks from her to Camila, a cute frown on her tiny face. “We’re tied for best student in that class. I figured you’d prefer notes up to your standard.” She smirks, one eyebrow raised like she knows she’s right.

(she totally is. not that Camila would tell her that.)

Camila scoffs and stands up, feeling self-conscious when the blanket falls and she’s reminded of her pink sweatpants and fluffy unicorn slippers, not to mention her hair’s all disheveled and she must look pale and scrawny. She notices the amusement dancing in Lauren’s eyes and lifts her index finger, pointing it at her former nemesis. “Don’t you dare.”

“I would never,” Lauren teases, with an honest smile. “Nice hoodie, by the way. I love The 1975.”

Camila rolls her eyes, in a feeble attempt to disguise how smitten she is.

It’s kind of amazing how no one had called Camila out on her attraction and feelings for Lauren before because now that she thinks about it, she’s been nothing but obvious.

Then again, there’s that whole camren movement making rounds at school, so maybe she’s just been blatantly ignoring the multiple callouts.

“Leave the notes on the table,” she says, watching as Lauren does what she’s told without complaint. “I’m gonna go get my notebook. You can keep Sofi company while she watches _Tangled_.”

Sofi squeals in delight, pulling Lauren to the couch with so much enthusiasm that Lauren pretty much stumbles onto it rather than simply sitting down. Camila runs out towards her bedroom to avoid having them see that she’d found that funny.

She’s shocked that Lauren had bothered to come all the way to her house. Sure, they’re on friendly terms with all cards laid on the table, but Camila didn’t imagine that Lauren would take any kind of initiative towards her so soon after they’d clarified there’s still a long way to go until she can trust Camila again. A home visit feels like an unexpectedly huge step in the right direction.

Sofi and Lauren are belting out the lyrics to _I’ve Got a Dream_ when Camila returns to the living room. Ignoring the pang of jealousy in her chest, she sits down at the round table the family uses for work and board games, and concentrates on the task at hand, flipping through the binder until she finds new information. Lauren’s notes are well-organized in their mess, all written in the same black pen, and there are cute drawings of flowers and faces in the margins. She has talent, and Camila is curious about whether she draws more seriously instead of just doodling on schoolwork. Not giving it much thought, she sketches a stick figure with a huge smile and scribbles a ‘thanks’ underneath.

When she finishes, she announces, “I’m done.”

Lauren gets off the couch immediately, and Camila snorts at the motion because Sofi had been leaning against her and her absence makes Sofi slide down the cushion like a lifeless monkey.

“Okay,” she says, seizing the binder extended to her and grabbing her backpack from the floor. They stare at each other for a long moment until Lauren takes a deep breath. “Camila… Can we talk?”

Camila is stricken with a sudden urge to say no. She doesn’t think she can handle her feelings for Lauren while not at her best health and possibly affected by whatever meds her mom had told her to take. Nevertheless, she signals for Lauren to follow her.

Her heart skips a beat when she realizes that the last and only time they’d been alone in her room, they’d ended up almost completely naked, but circumstances are different now. She spots the white crop top Lauren had left behind after the party folded on her clothes’ chair as she’s closing the door, and moves to grab it.

“Here,” she says shyly, not wanting Lauren to interpret anything as innuendo. “I’m sorry it took me so long to give it back.”

Lauren frowns and then a flash of recognition crosses her eyes and she blushes the tiniest bit.

Camila finds herself wishing, for the millionth time, that she wasn’t so damn beautiful.

Lauren is all she ever sees when they’re in the same room together.

“May I?” Lauren asks, pointing to the bed.

"Yeah, of course.” Camila stretches the duvet as if that would make the situation any less awkward, and waits for Lauren to take a seat so she can do the same and leave a considerable distance between them. “So—”

“Okay, so this might seem a bit strange, but!” Lauren interrupts, leaning down to open her backpack, “Dinah told me you were sick and yeah, I realize I could’ve just given her the notes to give to you but one, I didn’t want to give her more reasons to make camren jokes, and two,” she pulls out the chessboard Camila had given her for Christmas, “I thought maybe playing a game with a worthy opponent would distract you and cheer you up a little?”

Lauren’s cheeks are a soft pink and her smile is gentle and filled with hope. Camila honestly doesn’t know how she manages enough self-control not to jump her and envelop her in a full body hug. This is such a small gesture but it means so much to her. To the both of them.

“I hope you’re not a sore loser, Jauregui,” she finds herself saying, with a playful grin. “You know I’ve been practicing and I _always_ play to win.”

Lauren laughs, triggering a thousand butterflies inside Camila’s tummy. “You don’t need to tell me that again, Cabello.” She winks, smiling with her tongue between her teeth. “I’m a bit rusty, but I’m pretty sure I can still give you a run for your money.”

“Bring it.”

  

 

“Lauren?” Camila calls when they’re in the middle of their second game after she’d lost the first one.

“Hum?” Lauren doesn’t look up from the board, black horse pinched between three fingers.

“I never got around to apologize for what I said, you know, about your dad.”

Lauren drops the horse, body becoming stiff, and she looks very much like a wild animal about to activate the fight or flight instinct.

“I guess an apology is only worth something if the person who receives it gets more out of it than the person who gives it. And there’s that whole ‘changed behavior is the best apology’ school of thought also, but just—” She pauses, eyes on the chess pieces, vaguely aware that moving her bishop to C5 isn’t the worst move she could make next. “I’m so sorry, it’s been plaguing me ever since. Anger is not… I’m still learning how to manage it.”

There’s a heavy minute of silence, where Camila feels naked under Lauren’s unwavering, analytical stare. Then the black horse is moved and her queen is at risk.

“Never do it again.”

 

* * *

 

Camila had never thought it possible, but becoming an actual friend to Lauren, after everything they’d been through, is one of the most special things that’s ever happened in her short life. Their attempt at friendship after Camila’s post-election apology had been gawkish and taken over by their everlasting sexual tension way before they were ready for anything else, so to have another shot now — one that seems to be going well so far — feels like a dream. When she’s in an honest mood, after a drink or two and to Normani only, she’ll admit that being so patient and fighting so hard for someone is slowly murdering her. Most of the time, however, she is grateful that Lauren realized they couldn’t have worked as a couple after the making out session at that party she doesn’t remember anything else about, and was then willing to express her feelings and allow Camila to stick around.

“Tomorrow evening I’m picking you up so you can join me for the European Horror Fest, yeah, Bows?” Lauren asks, stopping next to her desk as the bell rings announcing the end of their AP Lit period.

Camila startles, blinking up at Lauren who busies herself piling up all of Camila’s possessions and holding them against her chest.

“Do I have a choice?”

“Well, yes, but I’d really like it if you came with me?” Lauren almost begs, with a pout and her green eyes twinkling. “It’s an oldish Spanish movie and I think it’d be really cool to try and understand everything without resorting to the subtitles.”

It’s not like Camila can stand a chance when Lauren looks at her like that, but she pretends she’s putting up a fight anyway. “You’re walking me to all my classes this week _and_ carrying my books for me.”

“Consider it done, my lady,” Lauren says as she curtseys. Camila’s heart explodes.

Hours later, after trying on about six different outfits and eventually settling on heels, a skirt and a short-sleeved white blouse that leaves her shoulders exposed, Camila hops into Lauren’s car only to have a brown paper bag practically shoved on her lap.

“I didn’t know if you’d have time to have dinner or not, so I got you chicken nuggets.”

“As a matter of fact, I’ve already had dinner,” Camila replies very formally, watching with amusement as Lauren’s grin drops, “but I can always make room for chicken nuggets. Thank you.”

The ride to the theatre is spent sharing nuggets and fangirling over each other’s music choices. They both love Kendrick Lamar, Demi Lovato and One Direction. Camila gets to know a couple of Kali Uchis songs and give Lauren her seal of approval, and shows her the Alejandro Sanz songs that mean the most to her.

She’s practically skipping behind Lauren as they walk inside the festival venue. They have an argument about who’s paying for the tickets that Camila wins because Lauren picked her up, drove _and_ got her chicken nuggets, and they take their seats still arguing over that until they’re shushed by a couple of other movie goers.

Turns out _[REC]_ — the Spanish original — is way scarier than Camila had expected. She’s not a fan of horror movies — she actively avoids them, in fact —, but surely Europe couldn’t be that good at scaring cinema fans. It’s not like she’d ever even heard of _any_ European movies, horror or otherwise, so they can’t be that good, right?

_Wrong._

She doesn’t even do it on purpose, but she ends up on Lauren’s lap, whimpering into her neck and watching the screen through the slits of her own fingers that are splayed across her face, while Lauren just laughs her husky laugh and holds her closer, tricking her into watching the worst parts by whispering soft words in Spanish right into her ear.

Of course Camila would be a sucker for having her crush whispering into her ear, she doesn’t know why she’s even surprised. The only shock here is how she can’t quite enjoy it because she’s too busy trying not to scream and keeping the shaking of her hands under control.

When the closing credits finally roll, Camila is quick to jump away from Lauren, flushed and still very much terrified for her life, eyes darting everywhere in case one of those awful zombie-like creatures had crawled out of the screen and now wants to attack them.

“Wow, Bows,” Lauren says around a giggle. “Watching a horror movie with you enhances its entertainment factor by a solid 20%.”

“Glad I could amuse you, Jauregui,” she snarks, holding her head high as she leaves the room to pretend she has some shred of dignity left. “But don’t think you’ll get me to watch a horror movie ever again.”

“Is that a challenge?” Lauren asks, one side of her mouth curling up in a lopsided grin.

Camila stops in the middle of the corridor, index finger pointed at Lauren’s face. “ _No_.”

They don’t want the night to end so they go to a diner close to the venue and share a banana milkshake, Camila scrunching up her nose every time Lauren starts ranting about how maybe, possibly, there could really be some sort of zombie apocalypse and it’s of major importance that she knows how Camila would fend for herself so she can give her some pointers.

“By the time this happens, I will already be the first Latina president of the US,” she says, one eyebrow arching when Lauren gasps. “Someone will take care of keeping me safe.”

“For the Democrats, I hope.”

“Obviously.” Camila rolls her eyes. “Still more center than left, but I am not _evil_.”

“Are you sure?” Lauren teases, biting her straw in a rather distracting manner. “Maybe your evil vibes are enough to keep zombies at bay, now that I think of it.”

Camila scoffs, crossing her arms, and looks outside the window in a tantrum. “I’ll have you know I’m an absolute _delight_ , Jauregui. And if you don’t think so, you can just—”

“You are.”

“—finish that stupid milkshake and drive me back home,” she concludes, glaring at Lauren who’s staring back with a goofy smile. “What did you just say?”

“That you are a delight,” Lauren says, her eyes sparkling brighter than a starry night reflected in the ocean.

Camila flushes and opens and closes her mouth in search of words to say, but nothing comes, so she just hides behind her palms, whining, “Stop that.”

She feels Lauren pulling her hands away from her face and she lets her, holding in a breath when their fingers end up entwined on the table. Her cheeks still feel really hot and her heart would give a percussion concert a run for its money.

“You’re cute when you’re all flustered, did you know that?” Lauren asks, so softly it feels like a caress to Camila.

She doesn’t know what to say to that so she doesn’t reply. It’s surreal to be here now, after months of making each other’s lives hell followed by months of reconstructing themselves and building bridges over the rift they’d created in the school.

Lauren stands up and pulls her up and they walk hand in hand to the car, where they sit in a mix of comfortable and tense silence until Lauren presses play on The Veronicas’ _Untouched_ and they do an improvised, quasi flawless duet of the song. After that, they keep at their impromptu karaoke session, each song choice becoming either harder to sing or more ridiculous than the last.

It’s the most fun Camila’s had in ages, probably in her whole senior year, and when Lauren finally parks in front of her house, it hits her that this whole evening was pretty much a date.

That realization, of course, turns her into an awkward pile of nerves and she opens the passenger door at the same time that she releases a squeaky “Bye!”.

But Lauren seems to have other plans.

“Camila, wait!” she pleads, gripping her wrist in a lightning fast motion. Camila inhales sharply, eyes focusing on the area where their skin is touching before they move up to Lauren’s face. “I… I had a lot of fun tonight.”

“Well, I could’ve done without that awful movie,” Camila jokes, settling on the car seat again, “but thanks for inviting me. It was great.” She smiles and then chews on her lip. Lauren is rubbing the inside of her wrist with her thumb and she feels rather than sees the goosebumps forming on her forearm.

“I really want to kiss you,” Lauren confesses, very quietly, cheeks rose-tinted and bottom lip hidden behind nervous teeth. “Like, really, _really_ want to kiss you.”

Camila’s chest becomes fireworks — one for each fear, for each doubt, for each flash of hope — and she leans forward, her free hand cupping Lauren’s face gently. They share a look and Camila closes the gap, lips meeting in a soft kiss that is tentative and curious as all first kisses tend to be.

They don’t deepen it. They just stay there for a few long moments, lips moving against each other while tongues stay still and shy. When they part, they’re both blushing and Camila clears her throat, putting some distance between them.

“Good night, Bows.”

She used to loathe it, but now the nickname just makes her stupidly happy and Camila can’t resist one last peck that has Lauren’s eyes shining even more. “Good night, Lauren.”

Her body is still tingling all over by the time she falls asleep.

 

* * *

 

For all the progress they’ve been making, the truth is they’re still Lauren and Camila. Lauren is stubborn and obnoxiously self-righteous and Camila is cunning, manipulative and short-tempered. Sometimes they clash and, because they’re Lauren and Camila, they’re absolutely _not_ afraid of getting into heated arguments until one of them decides to be reasonable (usually Lauren) or one of them throws her hands up in the air and storms out (usually Camila).

It’s been getting worse since their first date and Camila knows exactly why that is: they’ve taken to kissing sometimes, but it’s always just that and it always ends with either her or Lauren getting too rattled and putting an end to it before they even reach second base. They’re walking on eggshells around each other, unsure of what they’re doing, afraid any step forward is taking it too far.

The unresolved sexual tension is driving her crazy and making her cranky, which is probably why, following Lauren’s invitation to return to the student council meetings because they’re organizing a fundraiser and Camila is an expert on that, what they end up doing is fighting. And they go at it so hard the rest of the student council not-so-subtly stands up and leaves the meeting room, closing the door behind them.

After that, it’s a matter of minutes until Lauren claws at her neck and kisses her.

And Camila can’t believe this is happening _again_. They’ve been so _good_ , but here they are now, pushing and pulling at each other with violence. She’s too furious to muster the effort to care about it, to worry about consequences, to put an end to this moment of madness. And since when did her reaction to anger become to make out with the source of her anger? She’s pretty certain that isn’t recommended as a coping mechanism in any of the Psychology books she’d read for school.

Lauren is already shirtless and well, seeing an attractive girl with only a tie and a bra on her torso is doing things to Camila. Especially when said girl is still wearing the uniform’s skirt and those ridiculous knee-high socks, a black pair of Doc Martens on her feet.

Maybe there’s something to that school uniform kink after all.

Camila hums and starts unbuttoning her own shirt since Lauren’s hands are busy with her ass as they kiss. It’s kinda cute that she already has a favorite spot, and the thought makes Camila smile into the kiss. Lauren, who tends to be very in tune with Camila’s reactions, begins moving her towards the meeting table at that, intent on getting her way with her.

Camila is having none of that. Not today.

She’s really, really angry and she’s been really, really patient. Joke’s on Lauren if she decided to kiss her first in the middle of a verbal spat.

Knowing the surprise factor is on her side, she shifts so Lauren’s body is now the closest to the table and then turns it around, pushing Lauren against the table.

“Bend over.”

Lauren gasps, and Camila appreciates how shocked she sounds. “No,” she dares respond.

“Excuse me?” Camila grabs Lauren’s hips and pulls them to her pelvis in one swift, semi-aggressive motion before letting them go. She places a hand between Lauren’s shoulder blades and pushes her onto the table. Lauren doesn’t put up any resistance, but Camila doesn’t know _why_ . “I’m gonna fuck you from behind, Lauren, and you’re going to _love_ it.”

Lauren doesn’t say anything. Her breathing is erratic and her body is rigid with tension.

“Okay?” Camila had spent enough hours on tumblr to know that consent is important. She may be seeing red, she may be in the mood for a takedown, but whatever conflicted feelings she may be harboring right this moment, that is a line she would never cross.

It’s just that today they’re doing it Camila’s way, or they’re not doing anything at all.

Lauren’s reply comes in a tiny, subdued voice, as if she’s embarrassed that the idea of Camila doing those things to her turns her on, “Okay.”

It’s all the approval Camila needs to start sucking on her earlobe and biting her shoulder, her hands digging into Lauren’s hips and pulling her ass against Camila’s crotch, again and again and again. She has to stifle a moan when she sees the crescent-shaped marks her nails are leaving on Lauren’s skin.

Who knew manicuring her hands and keeping her nails just the right amount of _not_ short this week would turn out to be such a good idea?

Camila unzips Lauren’s skirt and gets rids of it together with her underwear. She stops for a moment, enjoying the view, and then slides both her hands down Lauren’s back, nails not sinking too deep.

Kissing every inch of skin she can reach, Camila unhurriedly drops to her knees. Lauren’s breath hitches on her throat and Camila grins against her ass before nibbling at it at the same time that her right hand moves upwards the inside of Lauren’s leg, with slight pressure so Lauren parts her legs. When Camila reaches the center, she touches Lauren’s slit with her thumb, and quivers.

Lauren is so wet and she’s doing this, she’s making her this wet; it’s for _her_. Camila feels a rush of power and arousal igniting her, and she’s curious.

She kind of, sort of, _really_ wants to know what Lauren tastes like. She’s also terrified. Going down on a girl is supposed to be something intimate, right? Should she be doing it on Lauren at this point in time? What if she’s terrible at it and she ruins everything?

She’s massaging Lauren’s clit very gently, getting more and more turned on by Lauren’s little mewls and the way she rolls her hips back in slow motion.

_Fuck it._

Camila leans forward and her senses are invaded by Lauren’s scent before she even does anything. It’s not a scent she can associate with anything else she has experienced. It smells like it could taste of something sweet or something salty, maybe even a bit sharp. Camila juts out her chin, her tongue poking out, and she just… gives a shy, experimental lick across Lauren’s folds.

Lauren’s knees buckle at the touch and it’s unexpected for them both. Camila holds on to her thighs to help Lauren stay in position and does the licking thing again.

It actually tastes really nice. It’s warm and mild and Camila is quite content to be where she is.

Lauren purrs, the most pleased sound Camila’s ever heard from her, and that motivates Camila to carry on, even if — and she’s only started to notice this now — there are easier ways to go about this whole situation.

Camila is delighted with Lauren’s muffled moans but she’s too uncomfortable to enjoy it properly. Her face is hidden in Lauren’s core so she can barely breathe, and her tongue is starting to hurt from having to stick it out to graze Lauren’s clit. With a huff, she slides in between Lauren’s legs and turns around to face Lauren’s sex again, and gets back to work, tongue flitting over her clit.

“Camila,” Lauren whines, heaving. “Don’t… Not so fast, okay?” Camila stops her ministrations and looks up at her, one brow raised in challenge. “Less speed, more pressure.” Lauren smirks, more cocky than usual.

“Shut up, Lauren,” Camila scoffs, biting her hip bone until the other girl recoils in pain. “This isn’t about you.”

Except it totally is, and if Camila complies with Lauren’s instructions, they both pretend not to notice.

“ _Hija de puta_ ,” Lauren sighs, after a minute or so. Camila can _feel_ Lauren’s body melt into her and she’s very fucking proud of herself for getting Lauren into this state.

She is no longer bending over the table so much as she has one hand holding on to the edge to keep her balance upright, and the other is coddling the back of Camila’s head like she’s the most precious thing in the world. Lauren is not pushing, nor is she pulling her hair, she’s just caressing the back of Camila’s head so lovingly Camila dares hope that yes, they do have a chance; that yes, they _are_ great together against all odds.

Truth is, Camila’s on her knees eating a girl out — a position she’d discarded long ago as being too submissive for her liking —, but she’s actually never felt more in control in her life. And as Lauren’s moans become more and more unbridled, Camila inserts one finger inside Lauren and curls it.

Lauren comes. Or Camila thinks so at least, because Lauren lets out a strident sound and her legs start shaking like she just wants to lie down and forget the world exists for a while.

Camila doesn’t let her. Standing up, she returns to her original position behind Lauren and bends her over again. Lauren is still so out of it that she doesn’t even say anything, she just follows Camila’s lead.

Camila leans forward, lips next to Lauren’s ear, and asks, voice dripping with lust and command, “Who’s the pillow princess now?” No, she’s still not over that particular taunt no matter how long it’s been and, as she’s finishing the question, she enters Lauren with two fingers and goes knuckle-deep without any warning.

Lauren _whimpers_ — honestly, that’s how she prefers her, — and Camila keeps going, faster and deeper, unwilling to rest even if her arm is starting to hurt.

She thrusts and pounds until she finds a spot that makes Lauren moan louder and that’s where she finally stops, point pressured hard in such a way that Lauren rolls her hips back and comes once again, in a fit of swear words and numb limbs.

Camila isn’t strong enough to hold her up this time so she allows them to lower down to the floor together, Camila on her knees, Lauren sitting between them. She’s so tired and somehow still so aroused that she wraps her arms around Lauren’s waist, burying her head in her neck. Lauren lets herself lean back and turns her head so her cheek is resting against Camila’s forehead.

They’re both panting and for a minute Camila forgets who she is, who _they_ are and what they’ve just done. She’s fully immersed in the moment.

“Fuck, Bows, that was…”

Camila feels something tug at her heartstrings then, and she pushes Lauren’s hair to the side, lets it fall to the front of her shoulder, and kisses her dragonfly tattoo — just once, soft and reverently, with more tenderness than she usually shows anyone. She tries hard not to think about how she’s wanted to do this ever since she’d noticed the tattoo during the soccer match. Tries very hard to tamper down the desire to do it again and again.

She snuggles up to Lauren’s back and the bell rings.

It’s awkward.

Lauren stands up and Camila stays where she is, handing Lauren the clothes she can reach from her spot on the floor. Lauren puts her uniform back on at record speed before facing Camila again, eyes purposefully avoiding hers.

“I’m, uh—” she starts, taking a deep breath. “I’m gonna go.”

Camila nods, watching as Lauren flees the meeting room, slamming the door shut behind her.

She covers her face with her hands — her hands that smell and taste like Lauren — and starts crying. She likes Lauren _so much_ and she doesn’t know what to do anymore. She doesn’t know when to stop and when to take initiative, she still doesn’t know how to keep her anger in check and she knows even less how to keep her feelings under control. She doesn’t know if she’s doing anything right or if she just destroyed everything they’ve worked so hard to rebuild. She didn’t know she could feel so much and get so lost, and she hadn’t even realized how much of her heart she’d already given away.

Most of all, she doesn’t know how to love Lauren without making mistakes.

  

 

Focusing on her homework wasn’t doing much to calm her nerves, so Camila gave in and prepared a lavender-scented bath, in which she indulged for almost an hour while listening to kpop because she had no interest in understanding or relating to the lyrics. She just wanted a fun sound to keep herself from obsessing about Lauren and to lift her spirits.

It works and she isn’t as anxious anymore when she returns to the reading she has to do for her AP Government class tomorrow. The topic helps. AP Government is one of her favorite subjects, but learning about the Supreme Court is very motivating for her and she’s actually excited for when she’ll have to write an essay about it. She’s highlighting the most important parts to make a summary later, and she’s so enthralled that she jumps and almost falls off the chair when her sister comes barging in the room without knocking.

“Kaki, Kaki!”

“What?!” she barks, bending over to collect her fallen pencil case.

“Lauren is here!”

Sofi is smiling a thousand-watt smile and Camila doesn’t understand how Lauren managed to have her little sister completely under her spell just after watching half an hour of a Disney movie together. Maybe she has some sort of power over Cabello girls.

It takes her a solid 20 seconds to stop her internal monologue and come to the obvious conclusion that Lauren is _here_ , at her house, without forewarning or having been invited. Lauren is here after running away from her because they’d given in to temptation.

"What is she doing here?” she asks to the empty space left behind by Sofi.

“Mamita, can you give me and your sister a few minutes of privacy?” Camila hears Lauren ask from where they’ve stopped in the hallway. “I promise after I’ll come down and play with you.”

“Kay, kay.”

Camila stands up from her desk and is fixing her hair bun when Lauren walks in, offering a timid, “Hey.”

“Hi, Lauren,” she replies, tucking rebel strands behind her ears. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” Realizing what she just said, she drags her hands down her face. “I mean— you know what? Forget it.”

Lauren chuckles, taking a step closer. “I’m sorry I ran.”

“Uh?” Camila most certainly didn’t expect _that_.

“Listen, ever since we started kissing again, it got like, _really_ hard to not jump you at all times,” Lauren explains, sounding a little exasperated with herself. “Figures it would take us getting into a huge argument for me to stop… fighting against it. Leaving was shitty of me though. I shouldn’t have done that, but I panicked ‘cause I didn’t think we’d, you know, do it again, and at school on top of everything else.”

“Oh.” Camila looks up from where she’d been diligently studying the floor to gaze at Lauren. “So you’re not mad?”

“Mad? Why would I be mad?” Lauren frowns and then her expression turns into a smirk, chin tilting to the side and lips pursed in appreciation. “Also damn, Bows, those were some skills, I’m impressed. Anything you’ve been hiding from me?”

Camila flushes a deep, dark red, and whoa, is it hot in here all of a sudden or what?

“I— hm, I read some, er, _things_.” She scratches the back of her head, toes curling in mortification. “And I, uh, watched a couple of videos here and there.”

“Never be caught unprepared, huh?”

“Hey!” There’s that spark of annoyance, the one that Lauren always ignites, and Camila crosses her arms. “I was mostly winging it, okay? Not my fault you liked it.”

Lauren laughs, the sound coming out hoarse and half-broken as it does when she finds something genuinely funny and Camila doesn’t want to, but she smiles in response, endeared and puzzled.

“Actually, Camila,” she says, leaning forward and lowering her voice, as if she’s sharing a secret, “it kind of is your fault that I liked it.”

“Why are you like this?” Camila grumbles, pulling the collar of her PJ shirt upwards to hide her ever present blush.

“Because you know I love seeing you all floored like that and you make it _so_ easy.” Lauren wiggles her eyebrows, a silly grin on her lips.

“Stop it, Jauregui,” Camila orders, pushing her shoulder lightly.

“Alright,” she capitulates without effort, shrugging. “Are we okay?”

“Does this…” Camila frees her face and bites the inside of her cheek, hesitating. Her hands become fidgety and she finds herself wishing she had something to hold. “Does this mean anything for us?” She winces, chastising herself for how hopeful her voice comes out.

“I’m still not ready to be in a relationship. Not yet,” Lauren admits, but she moves to interlink their fingers. “I don’t want anyone else, I’m not talking to anyone else. It’s just you, okay?”

Camila nods, fights the urge to lean in and rest her forehead on Lauren’s chest.

“I know you’ve been very patient and it may feel like I’ve been stringing you along for the past three months or so, but that’s not it.” Lauren sighs. “I never knew trust was such a hard thing to recover. I see you, I see all your efforts, and it makes me like you so, so much… I just need a little bit more time. Please?”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

Camila places a hand on Lauren’s face and locks eyes with her, thumb tracing the line of her cheekbone, and they stay like that for a few moments, unmoving and staring. “Okay.” She kisses her softly, breath hitching with all the butterflies flying out of her chest.

“So,” Lauren starts, eyes fluttering open in a daze. She takes a step back so they’re no longer touching and winks. “Fuck buddies?”

“Lauren Jauregui!” Camila screams, slapping her arm. Then she laughs and winks back. “Yeah, sure.”

 

* * *

 

Details tend to be fuzzy on days that change everything, but Camila’s mind doesn’t give her much room for fuzziness and she remembers most things on most days.

She remembers waking up happy and leaving the bed at the first ring of her alarm. She remembers being in the shower because she’d sung Taylor Swift’s _Dress_ and her shampoo bottle had been given its last use. She remembers preparing Sofi’s breakfast and leaving the house five minutes earlier than usual as everything was running so smoothly.

She remembers brushing Lauren’s forearm with the tips of her fingers as she’d passed her desk in homeroom, and sitting bored in the rest of her classes, eagerly awaiting for lunch so she could see Lauren again. She remembers sitting in front of her and spending the entire hour exchanging less-than-subtle once-overs, the background noise of Dinah and Shaun arguing about what’s the best teen show of all time not eliciting any reaction from her at all.

She remembers sitting on the bleachers next to Hernandez, pretending to study while stealing glances at Lauren and her bouncy ponytail; the way the uniform fits her ass making her bite her lip and take a deep breath to still her beating vagina. She remembers snapping at a couple of players to hurry up getting ready and leaving the changing rooms so she could go inside and kiss Lauren for a few minutes.

She remembers feeling embarrassed by how whipped she is as she walks alone to her car, and humming to the sound of Niall Horan’s _This Town_ while driving home.

When she arrives, her mom comes running out of the living room with three envelopes in hand and a big smile on her face.

“Your college letters are here!”

After that, it kind of is a blur. She’d applied to more colleges than necessary, just to prove herself that she could, and what she’s currently looking at is the acceptance of Barnard College, Yale and, more importantly, Harvard.

Harvard!

She’s really going to her dream college to become the best Law student they’d ever seen since Elle Woods.

Sinu hugs her and they squeal together, jumping around the foyer like children until they’re breathless and sweaty and too joyous to be bothered by it.

“I’m gonna call your dad,” her mom announces, disappearing into where she’d come from.

Camila has a similar instinct, except that the person she wants to call right away is, unsurprisingly, Lauren. She’s so excited it takes her a ridiculous amount of time to find her phone in the pocket she always leaves it only to notice there’s an unread text waiting for her.

**Jauregui [5:49pm]** _Yale put me on their waitlist._

She almost drops her phone.

_Shit._

Lauren really can’t catch a break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we know it's been a looooong time, but if you're confused about any past references in this chapter, they've had conversations about chess and college in chapters 10 and 13, respectively <3
> 
> let us know your thoughts!


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